Dream Ticket - 9

NINE

Emma and Lewis agreed to return to Syntex separately, though she felt that if Lewis had been with her she would have avoided a potential flashpoint with Royle. She needn’t have bothered though as he was out of the office for the afternoon. The girls, however were a different prospect.

‘You’re late missus!’ hooted Jane when she entered the office, ‘You’re lucky Royley’s up with the Sales team til 4 o’clock’.

Emma glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes late – not a sackable offence but enough to get her ear bent. She silently thanked her good luck.

‘I know’ she replied, ‘I had to go and see a man about a dog’ Or is it a rat? her mind corrected.

‘Oh aye?’ chimed in Elaine, rolling back out of her pen, “and which man was this seeing as Lewie’s not here either..?

Louis Sanderson.

Emma smiled at the memory and offered a big stage wink. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ she teased, skipping to her desk and tossing her hair with her hand.

The girls laughed.

‘Where is he anyway?’ she asked innocently, looking at the piles of stuff on Lewis’s as yet inhabited desk.

‘Well, Little Miss Innocent’ Elaine chided in a sing-song voice ‘I was just dropping the quarterlies on your desk when I saw him getting into that Shaguar of his. Funny how you appeared a few minutes later, eh?”. She clucked her tongue and shook her head.

“Aha..” winked Emma

Maggie popped her head up from her desk.

‘Don’t let her wind you up ladies, she’s been into town to tax Simon’s car! Haven’t you?’

Emma was glad of Maggie’s efficiency and the fictional appointment she had put in her Outlook calendar. ‘Damn you and your snooping!’ she mock-scolded and Maggie beamed. Emma was sure she had really tried to discover her whereabouts to stay in the hunt for Lewis’ attentions.

‘Well, ok’ said Elaine, frowning ‘but if we find out you’ve been having secret luncheons with our man with the tight ass then we’ll strap you to the copier and distribute your tits all over the site.”

"’Yeah, in A3!’ Jane added and Maggie giggled,.

‘Thanks, I could do with a boob job.’ Emma replied settling into her chair. The others laughed and returned to their jobs. Once seated, her smile slipped and her thoughtful countenance returned. She had dreaded the banter with her friends more than the potential showdown with Royle, knowing she had to stay chirpy until she could hide in her pen and think. She was bursting to talk to someone, to get some advice but as much as she loved her friends she knew she couldn’t. The truth was she wasn’t sure she could talk to anyone about it until she’d had time to think herself and there was so much to think about.

She switched her PC on and waited for it to boot up, staring down at the car park as she had done 24 hours ago. A whole day ago yet it seemed like a month. Even lunchtime seemed days away. It was if time had stretched out and the more she thought about things, the slower it seemed to pass.

The computer binked and she looked at the screen.

Go on then, tell us what happened!

Jane. Emma sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for tittle tattle right now. She opened up the messenger and saw she was chatting with Elaine as well. Emma realised that she had probably been the talk of the office since ever since missing their lunch at the pub. She typed back:

I told you – nothing! I went to tax the car, honest!

I wish I had met Lewis now, the fuss you’re making!

Elaine started to sing You Sexy Thing and despite everything Emma chuckled at her friends’ teasing. Elaine responded:

Yeah right and Royle is my secret love interest!

What are u doing tonight? We could go on a dbl date!

Emma typed back:

You’re crazy! I’m watching a chick flick, killing a bottle of wine and pampering myself.

Alone! Now I need to get some work done. Speak later x

She logged out of the chat window and was only just conscious of Jane going “oooh!” and Elaine laughing.

She had to decide on her course of action but she found herself torn. Miss Sensible, her mental companion from yesterday told her that she should confront Simon and get everything out in the open. Forget about Lewis, about his stories and his opinions of Simon – let her husband be trialled before he was judged. Why throw away everything she had for a complete stranger?

Yet arguing vehemently with Miss Sensible was a newer voice of Miss Impulsive. How long had she been disappointed with her lot and wanted more? How long had she wanted a newer more exciting man to arrive in her life and inject some thrill and romance? Two years, four years? Now he was here, he not only gave her what she wanted but also gave her a reason as well.

She sighed and told the voices in her head to shut up. She opened up a spreadsheet and tried to concentrate on some figures for next months operations review on the Excalibur project. The numbers danced in front of her eyes and she couldn’t concentrate on any one column for longer than 30 seconds before she found her mind eyes wandering off screen and staring into space. In her daydream she saw Simon and Lewis, dressed as knights, with broadswords and maces, slugging at each other while she, Princess Emma watched, thrilled and scared from her throne on the edge of the arena.

The air was heavy with thudding, grunting and clanging as the two men fought for her honour. So deep was her reverie that she could see the banners on the tents flapping in the wind, smell the dust and hear the phone ringing.

The phone was ringing.

She snatched up the receiver, not sure how long it had been ringing for.

‘Syntex, Emma speaking”

The ringing continued and she suddenly realised that it was her mobile, not the office phone. Cursing, she fumbled in her handbag and could see from the screen that it was Simon calling.

She hesitated before answering. Did she really want to speak to him now? She had to do it some time.

‘Is that yours, Em?” called Maggie over the top of the partition.

‘Yes I’ve got it’ she shouted back. She realised it had probably been ringing for quite a while when abruptly, it cut off. He’d either hung up or the answer phone had kicked in. She waited a minute and sure enough, the phone bleeped to let her know she had a new message waiting.

She slowly realised that she’d been holding her breath since the phone stopped ringing and let it out in a whistling sigh. She’d avoided talking to Simon, at least for the time being but she couldn’t put it off forever.

She dialled her voicemail and listened.

Hi. Listen I’m sorry about last night. I guess you’ve got every right to be upset and I want to make it up to you. I’m going to be working a little bit late tonight but if you want to get the train into Manchester we’ll have dinner together. Just you and me, no corporate stuff, no business guests or clients. Just Simon and Emma, ok? I’ll meet you at Luigis. It’s been ages since we went there. Call me back when you can.

There it was, plain and simple, said Miss Sensible. Your husband still loves you and has just been busy of late. He’s obviously sorry because he has gone to the trouble to arrange this. Have a cup of coffee, and put this Lewis from your mind. The only reason he told you all that rubbish at lunchtime was to get back at Simon.

The more Emma thought about this, the more she was inclined to agree. She couldn’t deny the attraction to Lewis and the fact his appearance ticked a lot of her boxes, but the stuff about Simon - she couldn’t reconcile that with anything.

There was a ‘bink’ and a message flashed on her screen.

So then, what are you up to tonight?

Emma sighed and nearly shouted out her answer. I’ve told you a hundred times you silly women, stop going on about it! With a venom and passion born of guilt and frustration she typed back.

Leave it will you? How many more times the answer is the same!

Are you that desperate for something to be going on??

She waited for a gasp or an “oooh” or a sarcastic comment from her teasing friends to float over the top of her cubicle, but there was nothing; just the clack of keyboards and the hiss-hum of the air con units.

Eventually a message popped back up on her screen

Sorry. Thought you might have had time to think. maybe I made a mistake. I’m too impatient; rushing for things I can’t have

She frowned and read the words twice and then looked at the screen ID. Anderson, L (Sales)

Her hand flew to her mouth and she gasped as if ice water had been pumped though her.

Lewis!

Damn her friends and damn her impetuousness. She rattled out a reply before he logged off.

Lewis! Sorry I thought you were Elaine.

I’ve been teased about where I was this lunchtime!

Oh right. Sorry about that – you girls, eh? But you’re not mad at me then?

No not mad, just a little confused and taken aback.

It’s a big thing you know? Big and fast.

Sure. I know and I also know I can’t say sorry :¬)

That’s ok. I know now you did what you did out of decency.

Like I said, it wasn’t really a shock which was all the more weird.

It was all weird. But strangely comfortable. Emma suddenly found it extremely easy to talk to Lewis this way. Her confusion was eased slightly by the screen and wires between them. There was no human physical barrier, no eye contact, no body language. She could see now why Elaine liked chatting to other blokes on the net in his way – it was communication at its most basic and she knew Elaine used this anonymity to fantasise about what her cyberblokes looked like.

In Emma’s case, however she could picture exactly the man she was chatting to – too well. If she closed her eyes she could still see them sat at the table in the pub, could smell him, touch his hand, lean over and kiss him…

Her heartbeat was increasing again and she felt a flush in her cheeks. Suddenly all her conflicting thoughts of the last few minutes evaporated. Talking to him again made her think about her long-established fantasy and of how she had felt yesterday, showing him around the factory. She wanted to see Lewis again, despite everything, despite Simon’s phone message. Suddenly she wanted to confess everything to him

A message flashed up again.

That makes it easier.. doesn’t it?

Maybe it does.. Can I tell you something really stupid?

Nothing you say is stupid, Emma

She smiled and typed on, not quite believing what she was saying but knowing somehow it felt right.

It might sound a bit cheesy!

Go on, I love cheese..

She smiled again and with a long juddering breath, typed

For ages now I’ve dreamed of meeting a total stranger and escaping

my marriage. I have this weird notion that maybe if I wish hard enough I can make it happen, just like think you can when you check your lottery ticket

She hit the Enter key and sat back, her heart thumping in her ribcage, feeling slightly dizzy not quite believing what she had said. She waited with her knuckle in her mouth to see what Lewis would type back

And what do you think now…?

She blushed and swallowed.

Maybe I’ve got six numbers….?

She let the question hang in the air, watching the screen, wanting a response to come that would give her the answer she so badly needed.

The message box flashed.

So do you think I’m your dream ticket?

She rattled back her answer.

It’s worth a gamble :-)

In that case, can you meet me tonight. For dinner?

Emma’s head was spinning now. Two dinner invitations from her two knights. She hesitated before typing back.

I might be going out with Simon

The response was quick. Each line flashing onto her screen like a hammer blow.

You sure he won’t stand you up, or be late, or come up with another cock and bull excuse?

I’ve seen him operate, Emma. I know him. He’s your fella but I see the real him.

Keeping people around him dangling, messing them around.. I doubt he’ll even show up..

Then after a pause, he continued:

Sorry :-( you got me going again..

She was confused now. She looked at the photo of her and Simon on the desk in front of her.. looked at the open conversation on the screen.. which way to turn?

She put her head in her hands and racked her brains.

She replayed the conversation of earlier, then foiled it with the voice message from Simon and all the happy times they had had.

Would have again.

‘Oh Jesus’ she moaned through her hands.

She opened her fingers and stared at the last message from Lewis again and then at her phone on her desk. Suddenly, something clicked in her head and the fog of the last day seemed to lift. A piercing shaft of rational, calm thought pierced the clouds in her brain and let the reason shine in.

Clearly now, and without prejudice her thoughts seemed to return.

She knew she’d been kidding herself all along and she was stupid to believe otherwise.

What was she thinking? It would never work in the long term.

All the things he’d told her – how much of it was true now?

She knew what she had to do.

* * *

For the fifteenth time in the last half hour Emma wished she smoked. She’d tried it a couple of times but could never really seem to get the appeal or feel comfortable. She ended up either burning her wrist or tapping ash on herself. Now, she just wanted something to do with her hands to stop them drumming on the bar.

She checked the huge old clock on the wall behind her.

8.25.

Where the hell was he?

She caught the waiter’s eye which wasn’t difficult as there was hardly anyone in the restaurant and in any case, he’d been eying her up since she walked in nearly three quarters of an hour ago.

‘White wine please. Large. In fact bring me the bottle’

It was her third. He raised his eyebrows and perhaps began to doubt whether she was worth moving in on. Emma didn’t care any more.

‘Will your guest be much longer, madam? Would you like to see a menu?’ he asked with raised eyebrows, tapping subtly at his wrist.

She frowned and looked round, expecting to see a queue out of the door. It was hardly buzzing, she thought.

‘I hope not’ she sighed. ‘Give me a few minutes and I’ll order’. Her appetite was fading now anyway.

The waiter brought her wine in a chilled cooler and was just filling her glass when a voice behind her spoke.

‘I’ll have a drop of that, too please’

She jumped and looked up, half because the voice had startled her but mainly because she recognised it.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ he continued, ‘spot of car trouble.’

‘Is everything ok?’

‘Yeah, no problem. Everything’s sorted now.’

‘Good.’ She sipped her drink, feeling at ease now, the pent up feeling and frustration of the last half hour dissipating as the alcohol did its trick

He sat next to her and took her hand.

‘Sorry’

She laughed.

* * *

Simon watched his wife as she ate and was struck by how gorgeous she looked; perhaps the first time he had looked at her properly in months. She still had the little trick of tucking her hair behind her left ear as she forked spaghetti into her mouth.

The rain continued to tick against the window and with it came the threat of sleet. Six years ago they had sat in the same corner booth of this little Italian restaurant just off Picadilly and shared their first meal out together. They had returned many times since, but none was as significant as this.

They talked and chatted as if they'd just met; laughing like their first date - swapping forks and trying each others' food, their eyes never once leaving each other.

But he was too keyed up to really enjoy his food; he pushed his pasta round the plate and the few mouthfuls he had eaten felt like they were about to make a reappearance. He swallowed the rest of his wine quickly.

He knew he’s been acting like a kid in a toy store, he’d had his pick of the women and power was such a damned aphrodisiac. He’d treated Emma like dirt, constantly letting her down, messing around with other girls, but no longer. No, he’d turned a corner.

Damn it, though. The one night when he’d decided that enough was enough, he was late because some bastard had let his tyres down. Not one but all four. Throughout the drive in to town he had wondered who had done it and now he thought he knew.

He had so much to say but didn’t know how to say it, if indeed he could. Sorry was one word he could include in every sentence, and he longed for their chit-chat to finish so he could perhaps form his words.

But it was too late.

Before he had arrived, he had a suspicion that after five years this woman that he loved (still loved despite his inability to express it) was lost to him. Marriages were supposed to last a heartbeat these days, yet here was Emma and himself nearly up to wood on the anniversary scale. He’d lost the deal this time

He watched her finish the last of the carbonara sauce with her garlic bread and then she reached out to stroke his cheek, her eyes full of something he hadn’t seen in ages.

Happiness.

The words he wanted to say evaporated and he realised there was no way back now. The damage was done. If he was a real man he’d do something about it.

But at the end of the day he wasn’t. He was a coward and he had seen enough.

He drained his glass, left ten pounds on the table and stood up.

With a final glance over his shoulder to the booth near the window he left them to it; Emma, caressing the face of the man he had once stitched up, and who had just returned the favour.

Simon walked out into the Manchester rain, alone and hollow.

THE END

Dream Ticket - 8

EIGHT

‘So that’s it’ Lewis concluded quietly.

He’d explained the full story to her but he was selective in his detail. He didn’t want to scare her, yet didn’t want to paint Simon in a worse light than he had to, for fear of her reaction. He had tempered his language in describing him and had kept his true feelings unsaid. Before moving to Trafford he had played out this meeting with Emma over and over in his head and had tried to gauge all possible outcomes. He had a hunch that she might be solidly loyal to her obnoxious other half and all would be lost, but since yesterday he was pretty confident that she would believe him.

Time with Emma yesterday had been so carefree and happy. It was hard to believe they had met only a few hours earlier and the way she was obviously flirting with him gave him new hope. She was even more vibrant than in her photograph and every moment they shared made his heart soar. As he had hoped and half-expected, she seemed to be breaking free from some kind of oppression at home and making the most of being with someone who was paying her full attention.

He had fallen head over heels in love with her again that afternoon, but he didn’t want her to know that yet. No matter how well he put his case, how well he explained to her that the man she had married was a horrible worm with no morals, he didn’t want her to think he was a bunny boiler as well.

“Emma?” he prompted.

She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach and for a moment or two forgot how to breathe. She picked up her drink, downed it in one and stared at the table.

‘I guess this has come as something of a shock’ Lewis said, stating the obvious rather than asking a question.

She nodded slowly, his voice still distant as it had been for the last part of his story. She had felt herself drifting away, hearing words that meant so much to her life in so many ways. Words that would and could change everything. Lewis had effectively stripped away the layers of her life and exposed so many insecurities and fears. Right now she hated him and was grateful to him at the same time. She was shocked, but not as badly as she thought she should be. After all, he had explained a hell of a lot and this in turn had gone some way to explaining Simon’s behaviour of late. But what now? She had come to the conclusion last night that she wasn’t sure if she loved her husband anymore. Surely this was proof that she this was the way to feel?

Yet the dissenting voice inside her spoke up. Who was he, this complete stranger, bringing the 5 years of her marriage crumbling down around her ears? He had trampled through her life like he was walking through tall grass, bending and breaking the things she knew; the reference points that held her life in the right shape. Just from seeing her photograph, he wanted to meet her and accuse her husband of all sorts of misdemeanours. Why should there be any truth in what he was saying?

Confused, she lifted her head and met his eyes. There were tears there, threatening to break through and a strange melancholy gripped her. She felt like she might break down herself. ‘I’m not sure what I should do now or why I’m even sat here in the first place’.

He reached to take her hand but for the first time since meeting him, she withdrew from his touch voluntarily.

‘How can I believe you?’ she asked. ‘Why should I believe you?’

He shrugged and shook his head. ‘There’s no reason you should. No reason at all. You don’t know me from Adam, do you? And on the surface it appears I’m trying to mess up your life.’

She nodded again and he leaned towards her. ‘But you do believe me don’t you? Your heart tells you that Simon’s no good and I can see it in your eyes. You’ve known for a while that your relationship was adrift and.. perhaps you’ve been doing too much wishing and trading on the past. But you’ve been looking at it with blurred vision – you just needed something to bring it into focus.’

He was nothing if not insightful, and she was once again struck by how well he seemed to know her in such a ridiculously short time.

‘I…’ she faltered, thinking back to their fight and the other woman’s name. Laura her mind shot back. She had shrugged it off, putting it down to the hot words and being tired; accepting his excuse but now she wasn’t sure.

‘What was the woman’s name again that Simon had supposedly…groped?’, she hesitated, conjuring up the image of Simon with another woman.

‘Laura Jennings. She was an assistant bids manager for some of our earlier projects. No one knew what really went on but Syntex believed Simon. After all, it was one word against another, but he spun some tale and got away with it. I saw her in tears at her desk and knew the truth. We all did – we knew what Simon was like.’

‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing here,’ she replied, staring at the table again and feeling her eyes mist over. She briefly told Lewis about their fight last night and Simon’s mention of the name Laura. She left out the part about the burnt chicken, though she didn’t know why and then felt stupid for doing so.

Lewis raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, Laura transferred to the support division after it all came out. But now Simon’s climbed higher up the tree I guess that they may come into contact again on some level.’

‘It’s contact at waist level that I’m bothered about’ she replied grimly, as a tear welled in her eye and began its descent down her cheek.

Almost at once Lewis felt sorry for her and ashamed that he had turned her beautiful porcelain features into this crumpled mess. He felt a pang of enormous regret knowing that he had single-handedly wrecked her life and for what? For his own selfish reasons. He’d been hard done to by Simon but his quarrel was with him, not his wife. He wanted to take her in his arms, stroke her long hair and tell her that it would all be alright – but it was too soon.

It may even be too late.

She sniffed and fumbled for a tissue in her purse. ‘I’m sorry’ she said, then laughed down her nose. ‘My turn to be sorry, now’

‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Emma’ he replied. ‘If I was allowed to say sorry again then I would, because I’ve given you all this pain’.

She reached over and took both his hands in hers. Staring deep into his eyes she said ‘Lewis, despite these tears I’m sort of happy. You’ve come from nowhere, and told me so many things, yet somehow I knew it already. I guess it’s a sort of release. I’ve not been happy with Simon for a while now and blamed a lot of things; mainly things beyond my control like his job and work commitments. Never the real reason, which was him. I thought the job had changed things but deep down it was really him. Maybe he changed when he got your job, maybe he was like that all along, I don’t know. But ultimately it boils down to him.’

Another sudden thought struck her and her mind flashed back to the day Simon got his promotion.

‘Lewis Anderson,’ she said absently, shaking her head and laughing softly, ‘of course!’

‘Erm yep. Still here’

’No but you’re not you see!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re someone different!’

He frowned.

‘It’s coming back to me now. The day Simon got the job, he came running in tell me he’d beaten a guy called Louis Sanderson because he messed up his interview. I wondered at the time if this other chap was French, but all the time it wasn’t Louis it was Lewis. You!’

‘Easy mistake to make’, he replied chuckling, ‘though it wasn’t me who messed up my interview’ he added sombrely.

‘I know that now’

He smiled, happy that he had made her understand

‘But I also know that I need some time to think about all of this’ she continued, flapping her hands in the air. ‘This change that’s suddenly heading my way. I need to know if I can live as I am now, I need time to think whether I should confront Simon or forgive him or wait or..’ she faltered. ‘I just don’t know’ she concluded.

Lewis continued smiling but inside he felt his face drop. Had he come this far to let fall at the final hurdle? Had he told her so much only to let Simon, Sleazy Simon lie his way out of it like he had last night? He could probably talk her round, turn the blame on to him, tell her that he was insane. He hoped to God not. Suddenly he felt queasy and was glad he kept his feelings to himself – he couldn’t face the thought of being rejected if he had offered his heart to the girl from the photograph instead of just his story.

‘Of course you do’ he replied, masking his disappointment. ‘I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news but I felt you had to know.’

‘And is that why you engineered your transfer or was there something else?’ Her eyes widened and her face cracked into a half-smile.

Has she guessed? he thought. ‘I needed to get away’ he answered quickly, prepared as he was for the question. ‘A fresh start, a new challenge. I was given a choice of sites.’ Before he could answer further his mobile rang. He excused himself and took the call.

Perfect timing she thought.

She looked at her watch and was surprised to see that only half an hour had passed since she had sat down. The time check and the realisation of where she was suddenly allowed reality to filter back into her conscience. The hubbub of the pub, the smoky air, the clink of glasses and thud of darts slowly seeped back into her brain like a cold current in warm water.

She only had an hour for lunch so she should set off back to the office if she wasn’t to risk a snide remark from Mr Royle.

Lewis finished his phone call and noticed her change in posture.

‘I need to be getting back, Lewis. I’m not sure how much work I can do this afternoon but I still need to be at my desk by one’

‘Yeah I know, me too. Are you going to be ok?’

What a question. She sniffed. ‘I think so, yes. I’m still numb, none of it has sunk in yet but do you know what the weird thing is? I think I should be more bothered, more upset but.. I don’t know. It’s like I’ve known all along, like watching a film that you know the ending to. Not a good film but an easy film to watch, one you’ve seen a dozen times before but still watch because it’s a comforting movie.. but in the end you aren’t surprised by the outcome.’

‘I think I understand. So is this film worth getting out on DVD?’ he added solemnly.

She paused and sighed. ‘It’s not a classic. I’m sure they can make a better sequel’.

Chapter 9

Dream Ticket - 7

SEVEN

‘Lewis! So glad to see you back in one piece! Or almost!’ boomed Syntex’s head honcho. ‘How was the skiing?’ He extended his right hand, then with a little chuckled swapped to his left. They shook awkwardly.

‘It was great, thanks – really enjoyable. Until my board and I parted company on the last day’.

‘Ah of course, snowboarding – nobody skis anymore.’ He jerked his head toward the window. ‘I saw you arrive; we don’t normally get taxis chugging into the car park before nine o’clock, so I thought I’d come and see you.’

His bushy eyebrows went up quizzically. ‘I presume you were coming to explain a few things to me, but we do usually expect people to take their full sick leave. Besides those things frighten the customers’ he added, tapping Lewis’s cast.

Tom Adams, was a giant of a man as befitted his lofty position as Syntex’s CEO. Thick set with a shock of white hair and standing at over 6’5” he had gained the nickname, the Bear. If he knew this he never let on, or ever would do – such was his geniality and compassion where his staff were concerned. The complete opposite to his brutal business manner, which was a rare balance.

‘I got back last night but wanted to come and set a few things straight about the interviews. But I’m puzzled... where’s Simon?’

‘He’s exactly where I hoped you’d be, Lewis. Stockport. In the Area Sales Manager’s office.’

Lewis gaped.

‘I must admit I was a little disheartened when I got your phone call. But,’ he held his hands open and slightly inclined his head, ‘I do respect your decision. It is a big step and if you feel you’re not right for it yet then,’ he smiled, ‘I’m sure your time will come. Thank you for being so candid.’

Lewis felt his eyes widen.

‘So Wallace of course was your obvious replacement,’ Tom continued. ‘I did actually want a shortlist of five this year, and have yourself and Simon on it - my two best guys - but I was out-voted at board level. Maybe it was for the best. Still, both of you outshone the two from Swinton, and that idiot from Leeds. I’m just glad Simon managed to put all this harassment nonsense from the Jennings girl behind him.’

He frowned as if considering this weighty topic, then clapped Lewis on the shoulder. ‘So! You were coming to see me then, hmm?’

Lewis’s mind was reeling. Simon had rung Adams! Pretending to be him! He couldn’t assimilate the facts quick enough to be able to act on them. His horrible little thought had proved right and the icy trickle down his spine had spread across his back making it prickle. That bastard had stitched him right up, telling the board he was dropping out. He thought quickly. What could he do? If he protested, he had no evidence. Simon had his position and his desk now and it would look like petty jealousy. Besides, he was supposed to have dropped out. Any protest would not only look ridiculous but would also serve to make him look indecisive.

‘Er yes. I was. Just basically to apologise. I hope I haven’t made you look foolish – putting me forward to have me reject the offer. I mean, not that I wasn’t flattered but. Erm’. He paused.

‘Nonsense!’ Tom replied, squeezing his shoulder with his enormous hand. ‘No offence taken. We’d have held the interview open until this week of course but, like you said, you’d thought it over and made your mind up. I suppose a bad accident and a brush with fatality followed by time to think makes you reappraise your life.’

His grip softened, along with his features. ‘I’ve done some thinking myself since then and realised perhaps I was pushing you a little hard – maybe taking you to place you weren’t ready for. Is that fair?’ His eyebrows shot up again.

He felt himself floating away and could hardly catch his breath. His skin tingled and he felt his heart racing.

‘Another year should do me,’ he choked, ‘I’ll be ready for the big boys then’.

‘Good stuff!’ Tom cried. ‘Now get off home for the remainder of your sick leave and I’ll see you in a few weeks – you’re not insured you know!’

With that he turned and strode back down the office towards the lifts.

* * *

Lewis spent the next hour in a flux between confusion and anger. He thought about confronting Simon, phoning Simon, killing him even. In his mind he’d driven to Stockport and pushed him from his fourth floor window. He’d waited in his car and wrapped a kettle flex round his neck. He’d kidnapped him and tortured him like the cop in his precious Reservoir Dogs. His over-active mind wandered as he contemplated how this betrayal could have happened. He’d been a fool of course, that’s how. He’d actually trusted Simon, who had already proven how devious he could be. Wriggling out of the groping allegations from Laura Jennings had only been one example of his scheming side. There had been countless others but, despite all this, Lewis believed he’d been safe. After all, he was a bloke and he hadn’t really considered himself to be a threat.

He sat slumped at his desk, spinning a pen round and round on his desk jotter with his good hand before the rest of his office started to arrive at about 8.30. He had been meaning to leave before they arrived but it was too late now; some of the girls had spotted him at his desk. Time to put on a brave face, he thought and spent the next ten minutes fending off good-natured jibes about his injury. The banter temporarily distracted him and he felt cheered by his colleagues, despite the numbness he felt deep down. They were all, to a man and woman, glad to see the back of Simon; especially the women and this cheered him no end. None of them knew of the skulduggery behind his appointment and through either diplomacy or ignorance, none asked the reason why Lewis had pulled out of the job interviews. He was glad; at this moment in time, he had little hope of explaining it himself.

‘So,’ asked Jerry finally, ‘are you going to move into the bigger pen now that Sleazy has departed?’

Sleazy? It was amazing how the office mood had lifted following Simon’s departure. Lewis thought about the question and before he could think, found himself answering.

‘You know what, Jerry? I bloody well am!’

Have I not been pissed on already? he asked himself. Until I can get to the bottom of this and work out my strategy, I’m taking every quarter I can.

‘Good man! There’s more room than ever now Uma and his ego have gone!’

They laughed together and the next hour was spent moving Lewis’s stuff across the corridor. All the guys in the office pitched in and Lewis helped where his one-handedness would allow. He knew he was supposed to be at home and Tom would probably raise Holy hell if he found him, but the truth was he needed company. And he sought comfort in the company of like-minded people; those who had a common interest in the dislike of Simon Wallace.

By lunchtime the bulk of his pen had been transferred to Simon’s old one and the rest of the office grew quiet as sandwiches rustled and Coke cans crackle-hissed. Lewis sat in Simon’s leather chair and began to organise his files. He opened the bottom left drawer and stared down into the face of an angel.

Lewis had seen the photograph of Emma even before he had been introduced to Simon. It sat on the top of a four-drawer filing cabinet amongst some dusty plastic squash trophies and he could see it from his old desk - the first time he had, he had been utterly captivated by it. Her beautiful, soft-featured face had so much excitement, life and expression that the whole picture was brought out of its flat reverie and appeared to dance in the frame.

A few weeks later he formally met Simon but never got the chance to ask about the woman in the photograph. He had originally thought it must be Mrs Wallace but the location of the picture troubled him. Whereas most people kept their family portraits on their desks or close to their computers; places where they spent the majority of their working time, this one was twenty feet from where Simon sat, obscured from his chair by a plant. Until he knew Simon better to ask, he assumed it must be his wife, but settled for thinking that maybe it might be his sister. The physical distance indicated no real closeness to the person in the photo frame. In thinking that she wasn’t Mrs Wallace Lewis’s interest and fascination with the woman and her glass of wine grew until he had to know for sure.

He had wandered into Simon’s pen on the pretence of organising a squash game and casually remarked about the picture. The response threw him.

‘Oh her? Yeah, that’s the old bread knife, that is. Used to look good back then. Plumped up a bit now – think my salary’s got her settled.’ He snorted a harsh bray of laughter. ‘Well, she spends it like it’s going out of style anyway. Still – she’ll do for now, eh Lewis?’. He winked, clicked his tongue and dissolved into raucous guffaws that Lewis laughed along with uncomfortably. ‘Anyway, Tom likes his execs to be married – gives a nice symmetry at the board functions.’ He winked again and tapped the side of his nose as if sharing some great trade secret that would allow Lewis passage into the inner Sales Circle. He turned back to his spreadsheet and Lewis retreated to the haven of his pen.

What a complete bastard. But he refused to let his perception of Emma be tainted by Simon’s vitriol. Over the weeks he began to change his opinion of Simon and slowly began his withdrawal from their friendship. In its place blossomed a mild professional rivalry that Lewis, in retrospect, believed Simon enjoyed more. Healthy competition kept the adrenalin rushing, kept that edge that the top salesman needed. The sort of cut-throat opposition that would end with him sitting where he was now, in second place.

As he reverentially took the photograph from the drawer, a germ of a previous idea began to seed in his head. His mind was fertile for any idea to redress the balance but this one had potential on all levels.

‘He doesn’t deserve you, Emma’ he murmured, and it was true. Simon had no idea how to treat women; in fact how to treat people in general. He had clambered over colleagues and friends alike, abusing his power and his staff in an effort to get to where he wanted. He’d traded loyalty and friendship for power and status and his misplaced authority had driven a blind ambition for greed at all costs.

This man had a lovely wife who lit up a 6x5” glossy like a new sun. A woman who was merely a token nod towards an expected status, whose image had been placed among other old trophies and treated with similar irrelevance. From that indignity, to the final humiliation; here she was abandoned in the bottom of a dusty drawer by an uncaring husband. Left behind in favour of Uma Thurman.

‘You deserve better’ he said, touching Emma’s face with a trembling finger. He knew he’d long since abandoned rational feelings and fallen in love with the picture, perhaps within weeks of first starting in the office. As he’d discovered more about what Simon was and more importantly what he wasn’t, he’d entertained crazy notions of meeting Emma, revealing exactly what her husband was like and eventually of giving her love he knew she wasn’t getting. A romantic and noble idea, but one which suited his character and enabled him to somehow hurt Simon. But, as time went on, as Simon’s behaviour became intolerable and he was sure that Emma knew nothing, the idea became less fanciful and more a goal he had to achieve.

Now with an added incentive, Lewis knew the course of action he had to take. He also knew deep down there was a potential for failure – spectacular failure – but he had to try. Not since the collapse of his German IT venture had Lewis’s outlook swung so quickly from one state to the opposite. This time however it was from gloomy to sunny. He began to smile and the grey cloud that had wreathed his head for the last four hours began to lift.

Simon may be able to seal most deals but Lewis knew he was going to close this particular sale.

Chapter 8

Dream Ticket - 6

SIX

She paid for a vodka and Coke and ignored the appreciative glances from the bar stool dwellers. What a dive. She hated this pub; it was an old man’s drinking place. No music, bright lights or two-for-ones. Instead sticky floors, draft bitter and a dartboard. Exactly why Lewis had picked it, she supposed. She told him no-one under 45 came in here, certainly none of the Syntex crowd.

As she waited for her change, she was half-expecting a come-on from the guy who was drinking what looked like cough medicine from a Bavarian pot stein. He was old enough to be her dad and his eyes hadn’t left her bum since she came in. Money in hand, she couldn’t get away from the bar quick enough.

The lounge area was only small and she had spotted him when she arrived; tucked away in a quiet corner, away from the door and windows. She headed across the 100 year old carpet, the questions of last night resurfacing in her mind and the same familiar butterflies beginning their symphony of beating wings somewhere within her guts.

Simon and her had made love last night, despite everything – the physical desire for both of them easing the tension and healing wounds, but only temporarily. As she lay awake in the early hours, sleep was never going to claim her and she had risen at four, showered and had breakfast with the sparrows. As she dressed, Simon acted as if nothing had happened and was chirpy and talkative, watching her from the bed. Sex for him had washed away the memory of the night before and, in his opinion should be the answer to her problems too.

But she was too preoccupied with what the day held with the other man that had entered her life.

She had arrived at work to find a Post-It from Lewis stuck to her monitor. He was out of the office all day but would meet her for lunch. She quickly hid it in her purse before she forgot and left it lying around. The girls had badgered her for an hour about Lewis from the moment they came in; Elaine first with her direct and gory questions, then Maggie from a more shy perspective, then finally Jane who was looking for stability in her man.

She gave the answers they wanted to hear; that Lewis was gorgeous and had great eyes and smelled nice, he was loaded and drove a posh car and lived on the Quays and was currently unattached. Not realising the turmoil she was in and the desire she had to just lock away the world until lunchtime, her friends kept the subject alive until lunchtime. Emma put as brave a face on as possible - she couldn’t pass off her migraine excuse again and was getting quite weary of their questions by midday. Besides, she had so many others of her own.

She had made an excuse about not lunching with them at the pub, saying she was waiting for a phone call and as soon as the girls had disappeared she’d headed in the opposite direction for the Crown.

‘Do you realise how hard it was to get away on my own today?” she asked, sliding onto the seat opposite, noting with disgust the amount of cigarette burns in the cushion.

‘Really?’ he replied from over his glass, watching her sip her drink.

‘Too right. Those friends of mine have been banging on about you all morning. You’re the first man we’ve ever had in our office. Real man anyway’.

He put down his glass, and rested his chin on his bridged fingers.

‘I suppose Frank didn’t count then?’ he said with his cheeky grin.

Emma spluttered into her glass. ‘You’re joking!’ she said laughing. ‘Puffy Ellis?. Never saw him with a woman, lived with his mum, read model train magazines and..”, she looked round conspiratorially, “..cut pictures from the Daily Sport with a scalpel’. If there was one person who she expected to frequent this shit hole, it would be mild-mannered, mild-drinking Frank.

‘Creative porn, eh?’

‘Yeah. Used to stick them inside his desk door, but Jane saw them once and nearly died giggling. He nearly had a heart attack full stop – never seen anyone turn burgundy before!’

‘So... why “Puffy”?’ Lewis frowned.

‘Ah, well we thought he was gay originally,  but then the Sport girls thing happened and that was after the nickname, but it was too late to change. Maybe he was picking the body he wanted to change into.’

Now it was Lewis’s turn to laugh. ‘You girls.. you’re just so-o bitchy!’

‘Us?!’ she replied innocently, fluttering her lashes.

This was weird. It wasn’t how she thought it would be going. She looked at him as he drank his pint (lager she happily noted) and felt confused. It was a continuation of where they had started yesterday, not how they had left off. He was his easy-going, wise-cracking, smiley self; she had imagined Lewis would be all sheepish and full of apologies. She was on the verge of wondering if it all been a crazy daydream when he reached across and took her hand, jolting her with that electricity again.

‘I’m sorry’ he said, looking down at the scarred table and finding a sudden interest in some illiterate graffiti. ‘I acted like a dickhead yesterday.’

She started to interrupt, but with what she didn’t really know. Something along the lines of No you didn’t which was a complete lie but he held his other hand up to stop her.

‘Please. Let me say this. I got my timing all wrong yesterday. I said too much and now it’s had to wait 24 hours. He raised his eyes to hers. ‘Which hasn’t been easy. Probably on both of us’.

She nodded in acquiescence and raised her eyebrows

‘Sorry’.

‘Look stop saying that will you!’ she blurted. ‘Please! No more apologies. I thought I was going mad when I came in here just now and you acted like nothing had happened. Do you know what sort of night I’ve had? What crazy questions have been running round my head like rabbits?’ She left out her fight with Simon. ‘Now I know it did happen and it wasn’t a... a waking daydream will you please explain what is going on?! Either that or my head will explode. And that will be a bloody mess and that suit looks new.’

There, she’d said it – she’d been wanting to say that since he walked away from her. If she’d had his phone number she’d have called and said it then, or at the many dozens of times through the night as she lay awake, thinking, thinking, thinking.

He shrugged, embarrassed. ‘Self-defence mechanism’ he admitted and took a big sigh. ‘Ok here we go. You ready?’

She growled and raised a hand as if to deal him a back-hander

He smiled and began.

* * *

He was 33 and was (he admitted rather self-consciously) in the words of his former boss “shit hot at marketing”. He was educated to degree level and had garnered a great admiration among his superiors and peers for being a deal-sealer. Qualifications aside, it was his affable, easy-going nature, his winning smile and gift of the gab that invariably got the clients to sign on the dotted line. This natural charm was often worth more than his three years of study.

He’d come to the marketing game late on, having frittered away his first attempt at university (Travel & Tourism with Media Arts) and ended up in his mid-20s with debts up to his eyeballs and no career. Following a bail-out from his dad, he spent eighteen months skiing round Austria and instructing when money was tight. With a bit of luck and having scraped together the bare minimum for start-up fees he attempted to set up an IT business of his own in Germany. When that failed after two years (right place, right hardware, wrong time), he returned to England to regroup and restudy.

He’d learned a lot from his misguided business venture, though; mainly that he could talk people into almost anything. That was the easy bit. Delivering the promise was hard. When a friend suggested he’d make an ideal salesman who could probably flog sand to the Arabs, he began a three year hard slog to get a degree in Marketing (or Advanced Bullshit as he liked to think). He supplemented his second student loan with a cold-calling job for an internet company, where his patter was honed and he landed more signups than many of his contemporaries. He needed the money too; his parents had made it clear in no uncertain terms that they weren’t the Bank of Mum and Dad and that any further debts would be paid by himself. He eventually graduated with a 2:1 and landed a junior position at Syntex, just as they were promoting their wireless office network.

Syntex was a growing IT company that had carved itself a little niche making electronic touch screen browsers. Twice in its history, it had been at the right point in the development of a product to capitalise on a sudden market interest.

With Lewis’ IT background and sales flair he was soon landing the company big contracts and was well on the way to board-level recognition. At last he felt he fitted – he could knowledgeably talk a great product, schmooze even the hardest of hard-nosed customer and best of all, let someone else project manage the delivery. He quite frankly loved his job. Within his first year he had paid back his dad for his first lot of academic debt, bought a Porsche and still had money to spend on an impressive two bedroom apartment overlooking Salford quays.

Following the 9/11 bombings with jobs, flights and routes being slashed, airlines were delighted to find they could save money servicing aircraft by having repair information on Syntex’s browsers. With Lewis’s help Lufthansa, NWA and Delta were their first major customers. This was also the first time Lewis met Simon Wallace.

Being of a similar age with similar sporting interests, Lewis and Simon had a lot in common and Lewis thought they’d become good friends. Slowly though, after only a period of a few months, Lewis realised Simon was a bit of a selfish arse.

He stopped talking and took a swig of his beer.

‘Ok that was the easy bit and yes, I know your husband. And yes, I’m sorry but he’s an arse’.

She stared at him and was at a loss for words. So he’d known she was married before they met yesterday? What did he really want from her? Lewis looked like he’d said too much even though, he’d not really said anything.

‘He can be’ she admitted, finally. After her bathroom revelation last night and their argument, she pretty much didn’t care for him right now either. ‘Is that what this is all about? You wanted to meet to tell me you didn’t like Simon?’ She was intrigued.

He shrugged. ‘Partly, I suppose but there’s other stuff as well. Stuff I think you ought to know’. He paused then pushed on. ‘Simon’s good at his job, like me - but he treats the people around him like shit.’

Emma looked surprised. ‘I had no idea’. She shook her head incredulously. ‘I mean why should I have, he’s not like that at home…” she let the sentence trail off into the air, replaying last night’s words.

What Lewis really disliked about Simon was his disgraceful treatment of women. Lewis had a healthy respect for the fairer sex, instilled by his mother and grandmother, but the way his colleague carried on was the polar opposite of his beliefs. It came as a great surprise to find out Simon was married and he always referred to Emma in a totally disparaging way; “the wife”, “the little woman”, “my lesser half” and even once as “that commission-spending bitch”.

But what annoyed Lewis further was Simon’s lack of morals. He was an arse, but he was also an arse slapper. And a lecherous groper. If you were a female in the Salford office, you were fair game for Simon. Following his promotion he thought he was indispensable; his sales talents unquestionable and he had the full support from the board of Directors. With that power came the belief that all women should find him irresistible. He had made passes at all of them, when both sober and drunk and was lucky not to have been hauled to a disciplinary hearing for sexual harassment. Lewis believed it had been a close call sometimes but he was sure the management team had always protected him and quashed any complaints they may have received.

Her face hardened. ‘Tell me everything,’ she said, ‘if it hurts, it hurts but you’ve said too much now not to go on. Besides, I think I have a right to know, even it is from a man who I only met just over 24 hours ago. But who I feel I’ve known longer’.

She smiled and squeezed his hand in affirmation.

He nodded. ‘Ok. Simon doesn’t deserve you for starters, you’re far too nice for him. I’m afraid your husband’s attitude towards his work colleagues is a disgrace. Everyone is treated with contempt and total disregard; he’s rude, arrogant, argumentative and ruthless. A lot of those traits are necessary in a harsh sales environment but he’s selfish beyond belief. I quickly fell out of friendship with Simon as quick as I fell in. Not that he cared; his selfishness transcends friendship, it seems. He hardly noticed that I was always busy on squash nights or was working late when he wanted a pint. The world revolves around him and if you get too close you’ll be taken for a spin and dumped very quickly.’

He took a deep breath, sighed and looked her in the eye. ‘I’m sorry, Emma. And this time I mean sorry for having to tell you this, not sorry for yesterday.’

‘Why do you have to tell me?”

‘I first saw you about a year ago’ he explained. ‘You were sitting in Simon’s pen in a small photo frame. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you every time I saw it.’

He stopped and waited for her reaction.

‘Really? Which photo was it?’

‘You had your hair tied back and were wearing a silky pink top. It looked warm. I think you may have been in a café because there was an umbrella in the background. You were holding a glass of white wine and smiling that pretty smile of yours. Your eyes were sparkling and you looked completely happy’.

Lewis looked at the table, as if ashamed at his memory.

‘Caymen Islands.’ she replied, unfazed by his flattery. ‘Last year. I’m impressed you remembered so much’.

‘Believe me, I was drawn to that photograph. For months I could see it from my desk and then, on the day I sat at Simon’s old desk, looked down and you were staring up at me’.

Emma frowned. ‘Up at you? From Simon’s desk? You’ve lost me’

‘I hope not’ he mumbled.

She frowned and lowered her voice to a sharp hiss. ‘Don’t start all that again. Coded sentences, half-explained words. Just tell me what this is all about.’

‘I’m trying to, but it’s a bit of a long tale. Can I get you another drink, before I go on? I know I need one, and not just because my throat’s dry.’

She nodded ‘Same again, please. Voddy and coke.’

She turned and watched him walk over to the bar, more confused than ever. There was a story developing here, and it was becoming more complicated than it originally seemed. Simon was involved in all of this, but she didn’t know how just yet. It was no coincidence Lewis turning up in their office like that, of that she was now sure. This helped to settle some of the butterflies and questions that were buzzing inside her, but not all. In a way, she found it a little disappointing; that there was another reason for Lewis’s sudden interest in her life besides just herself. She decided to hear him out and leave her questions until he’d finished. Despite her frustration at his constant apologies and stalling, she found that she was not really angry with him and was enjoying his company, even though he was telling her things that she found uncomfortable. She felt somehow though that they would have been even more difficult to deal with before last night’s confrontation.

Lewis returned with their drinks, took a sip and continued.

‘Simon and I worked opposite each other in Salford. Same desks, different sides of the corridor. Like I said, we got on initially but that all changed and changed for good once I found out about his promotion. When that area job came up last year, I was chuffed to bits; Adams, the chairman, told me that I’d made the shortlist of four, if I was interested. Interested? I jumped at the chance! I was on the shortlist and Simon wasn’t. We were evenly matched so there was always a little bit of needle in our day-to-day lives and of course I took this opportunity to rub it in. But he diffused it all, saying that he wasn’t bothered about the job anyway. It was too much hassle for the extra money, he said and would have withdrawn from the list had he been selected. That took the wind out my sails. Unless he was lying of course, but then again, that’s what he does best – Sales and Marketing is 30% misinformation. He was probably hiding his disappointment and jealousy with his usual style.

‘The selection process was by interview panel and they said I had a good chance. There were some external candidates but I had the product knowledge so I was quite hopeful. The week before the interview I grabbed a quick snowboarding break in Val d’Isere, just me and some old uni pals. Ha! “Break” was right. We had a great time until the last day. I was coming down a steep black mogul run and just lost it on some fresh snow. Totally missed my mark and fell heavily. I broke my right arm in two places.

‘I was airlifted to Albertville and was in hospital for a week. The week of the interviews. But I thought I’d be fine, didn’t I? They wouldn’t just go ahead and ignore me just because of an accident. After all, I’d phoned Simon from the hospital and explained everything. He was very sympathetic. He said he’d tell the directors and get them to postpone my interview until I was back in the UK. Told me to relax and everything would be fine. Said that Syntex wouldn’t hire someone without looking at every candidate and reminded me that it was me who’d been selected, it was not as if I’d applied for the job. Did I have insurance, was I ok for money? I was reassured. Looking back now I should have realised he was being too nice, but I was just relieved that I hadn’t blown my chance.

‘When I was discharged I got the train to Lyon and flew back to Manchester that night. I still had another three weeks off sick, but I wanted to see old Adams straight away in person. To explain that I still wanted that interview.

‘The next day, I got to work at my usual time. The girls on reception made a fuss as I came in, saying they didn’t expect me in yet, go home and wait til I got my cast off, I was a workabloodyholic. I laughed it off as I got the lift up to my floor. That was the last time I laughed for a long time.

‘The lift opened in the corridor outside our office and even as I walked towards the big glass doors I knew something wasn’t right. I could actually see the back wall opposite – Simon had this massive poster of Uma Thurman, the movie advert for Pulp Fiction – he’s mad about Tarantino. That’s all you could normally see when you got out of the lift; Uma lying on her front, looking all sultry; smoking and pouting. Well, the poster was missing. And as I came through the door that’s not all that was missing. Simon’s whole desk was empty.

‘I wandered slowly up the corridor into Simon’s pen and looked around, as if I expected him to be hiding in the corner, but there was nothing there. All his files, papers, whiteboard, his PC – gone. But all I really noticed was Uma was no longer watching me, there was just a dark purple rectangle and some old Blu Tak.

‘There was no-one else around either, which wasn’t unusual as it was so early – I used to enjoy the early starts, you could get so much done before the place filled up. I went over to my desk, scratching my head and also trying to scratch my damn arm through the plaster. Nothing had changed there apart from the pile of mail on my side table. I was just about to turn to head for the top floor to see Adams when I noticed the Post-It on my monitor. It was from Simon. Have my desk, mate - it’s bigger and you can see the women in the gym. Looks like we both got a break! See you around’.

Lewis gave a deep sigh as if reliving some personal pain, and Emma held his other hand, enthralled and excited by his voice despite the unhappy tale he was telling. She was pretty sure she knew how the story ended now anyway and didn’t like its implications, but didn’t want to interrupt him as he was in full flow.

‘At the back of my mind, just like another itch I couldn’t scratch, was this little niggling idea. This thought was starting that began to trickle down my back like iced water. He wouldn’t? Would he? But this thought got no further because at that moment the door opened and Adams came in.’

Chapter 7

Dream Ticket - 5

FIVE

The lavender-scented steam and hot water did their usual trick of relaxing her aching muscles. Emma usually had the water as hot as she could stand, so that her skin turned rosy pink after ten minutes of soaking. This gave her the longest time possible in the tub, lying as she did until the water turned tepid and she gave in to the inevitable and clambered out. Quite often she nodded off in her peaceful aquatic haven with only soft flickering candlelight playing on the ceiling and blinking from the steamy tilework. Not tonight though. Her body may be relaxed but her mind remained tense and active. 

‘What a crazy end to the day’ she spoke out loud to the candles. Simon wasn’t due home for another couple of hours at least so she was quite free to chatter to herself. She just couldn’t get over the change in Lewis’s demeanour – from über cool and unflappable to.. well he’d just turned to a blabbering wreck.

‘I did that!’ she exclaimed with amazement, feeling a glow even through the hot water. Could she really begin to think the unthinkable and hope for a development in her new relationship with Lewis? It certainly hadn’t started off like it might be an affair to remember, in fact she wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t a bit crazy, despite what he’d said. Didn’t crazy people always think they weren’t crazy? She knew she wouldn’t get much sleep tonight if she kept running these questions through her head but she couldn’t help herself.

With a sigh she pulled herself up out of the tub, curtailing her lengthy soak. She was just too keyed up to relax and needed to be as active as her mind was. She stepped out and stood for a minute watching the water run down her curves. Like all women, she believed her body was not 100% right. In her case, she didn’t have a very good relationship with her legs (too short and calves too fat) and her nose (slightly crooked), but overall she was content. She turned sideways and admired her breasts and bottom. Perfectly counterbalancing her profile, they pertly jutted out and she smiled, remembering Lewis’s touch just below her waist earlier.

She closed her eyes and ran her hands down her body, feeling a tingle as she caressed the wet skin beneath, catching her nipples with her nails and drawing a sharp breath of pleasure. She let her imagination wander with her hands to thoughts of her favourite underwear. Maybe only half of the matched set, she grinned, maybe none of it. Her freshly bathed body hidden, temptingly under her best black dress, the one that hugged her like cling film and made a gorgeous low vee of cleavage. She knew she looked good in a short dress and had loved playing the flirtatious girlfriend when she’d first met Simon a million years ago.. Now.. well, now there was no need to try was there? She was a five year-old wife. And with that thought she effectively ended her relaxing and intimate private moment. She swore, as the delicious, low throbbing ebbed from between her legs and her fantasy thoughts disappeared with the steam from the bath.

‘Bastard! I can’t even get horny without you ruining it!’ she said under her breath and then stopped. Standing in the cooling bathroom, she had surprised herself at the venom with which she had spoken and also the speed at which Simon had became a you. A nameless object. A thing of loathing. She knew they were in a rut and she was mentally cheating on him but now it seemed, with the events of the day that she’d elevated their complacent marriage to near divorce. She didn’t really hate Simon, though... did she? Running the question round her head she found she couldn’t answer. But she did love him, right? She gave it some thought and then raised her head to meet her eyes in the mirror. With a mixture of sadness and relief she said ‘I don’t think I can answer that one anymore either’.

* * *

Ten minutes later, with her hair in a towel and wearing a nice warm fluffy gown she was busy bobbing round the kitchen preparing tea. Keeping herself busy kept all the conflicting thoughts she had from clogging her brain up and stopping it working.

Nice and quick, tonight – chicken salad, as she brushed the meat with oil and put it under the grill. There was no telling what time Simon would be home from Sale – his arrival times had been getting as erratic as they were late. Salad was her standby for his late arrival, food that wouldn’t spoil and a little silent protest; her way of saying that she wasn’t prepared to cook for two but eat alone.

She crossed to the fridge and withdrew a bottle of Pinot Grigio that she’d placed there the moment she came through the door – she’d had a feeling she might need something to drink before the end of the evening. As the chicken started to cook she uncorked the bottle, picked the largest glass she could find and wandered into the lounge, lighting some more candles and putting on a chillout CD. She had just curled her legs under her and taken a sip of her drink when, with unerring and unscheduled timing the front door opened.

‘Em! I’m back. Is me tea ready?! If not, why not, woman?!’ Simon boomed in a heavy Northern character accent.

Usually she smiled. Usually she’d shout something derogatory back. She had said from the outset she’d never be the kept wife and have a meal on the table the minute her husband walked through the door. He had agreed and said he’d never come home demanding it and threatening consequences otherwise.

Today was different though; something inside her had changed – a new feeling was emerging and she wasn’t quite sure what that meant just yet. She knew it was something to do with Lewis – hell it was a lot to do with Lewis, but she also knew that it had been bubbling under the surface for a while and that the events of the afternoon were just the excuse she needed to admit it.

‘In here’ she shouted back.

He came into the lounge, tossing his keys onto the table. ‘What’s up with you? I normally get “the dinner’s in the bin you cheeky bastard!” ’

‘Simon do you love me?’ Her directness startled her but she wanted to get to the bottom of this quickly.

‘What?’ he replied, frowning and taking a step back.

‘Do you love me? It’s easy to answer. Well, it used to be.’

‘What’s all this about? Of course I love you, what kind of question’s that?’ he replied, shrugging out of his jacket and turning to the drinks cabinet.

‘Maybe the sort of question a woman asks when she hasn’t heard the answer for a long time?’

He came and sat next to her with a Scotch in his hand. ‘Have you been drinking?’

She rubbed her face. ‘Bloody hell, why do I have to be pissed to be emotional? I just want to know if you still feel the same way about me now as when you said “I do” five years ago.’

‘Have I forgotten a date? It’s not our anniversary I know that much, but is it a birthday or something? Your mum’s birthday? Was I supposed to do something’ He looked puzzled.

‘Jesus, Simon!’ she exploded, frustrated. ‘Can’t you see what I’m asking here? Can’t you see how different things have been since you got that damned promotion? I never see you, you’re always home late, we live separate lives..’ she let the sentence hang and took a large gulp of wine. ‘It’s just not the same as it was’.

He reeled from her outburst and stood up. He downed his Scotch and headed back for the bottle.

‘I’m sorry love, you know how it is – it’s work. I’m so tied up with it that I can’t get away these days.’ He poured himself a bigger measure this time.

‘I know it’s bloody work – that’s all it’s ever been since October last, but there’s more to life than work, Si. What about us? Am I more important to you than a new contract?’

‘Us? We’re fine aren’t we? We have all weekends together, isn’t that what working couples like us are supposed to have?’ He grinned and returned to the sofa.

She took his glass and held his hands in hers. They were cold and slightly damp. Looking into his eyes she said ‘Are we fine, Simon? Really? Can you even answer that question yourself? Have you not noticed how unhappy I’ve been this past six months?’

His eyes flicked away from her to the television.

‘Of course you haven’t,’ she continued bitterly, ‘you’re never here to see me are you?’

‘Oh come on, that’s crap!’ he said, his tone sharpening.

‘Is it? Is it crap? It may be crap to you Simon but it’s how I feel. Alone and unloved.’

‘I love you for God’s sake!’ he cried, standing again. ‘Didn’t I just tell you so?’

‘I had to ask!’

He buried his face in his hands and made a growling sound. ‘Bloody hell why do you have to be so obtuse?! You women are all the same; moaning that I’m never here, moaning when I am here, making my life a misery, asking damn silly questions you know the answers to. You aren’t moaning when you’re spending my extra cash are you?’

Simon’s face was purple now as he snatched his Scotch back up from the coffee table.

Emma was no mouse, she could argue when she had to and wasn’t going to take this when she’d done nothing wrong. She stood up, wrenching the towel from her head and throwing it at him.

‘You what?! YOUR extra cash?’ She adopted a mocking tone. “There you go angel, you can spend, spend spend now”. You said that to me in there, the day you got the Stockport job’. She jabbed a finger towards the kitchen, from where smoke was starting to drift in through the door.

‘Shit! The bloody chicken!’ she cried and pushed passed him.

‘You see what you’ve done now?’ he yelled after her.

She yanked the grill pan from under the flame and clattered it onto the worktop. Grey smoke billowed from two blackened lumps. She picked them up with the tongs and threw them in the sink, dousing them with water.

She turned to face him as he marched through the door. ‘All I ask for is a little consideration, Simon. You used to be so considerate!’

He regarded her with hard eyes. ‘Everyone’s changed.’ he countered. ‘Even you. You used to love the attention, Laura.’

She felt a chill like ice water down her spine. Staring hard and annunciating each word, she half-whispered. ‘Who. The fuck. Is Laura?’

If he realised he’d made an error he never showed it. His face never slipped and to her amazement, he laughed out loud. He flapped his hands, exasperated.

‘You see? Now I’m getting flustered. I’ve just spent all day with that silly cow Laura from the Bid Team and finished off with a big row with her too. Been here five minutes and thinks she knows everything - that’s one of the reasons I was late. So that’s two of you in one day. Lucky old me. Look, can we drop this now?’

She suddenly realised that she was very tired, emotionally and mentally – this silly spat had been the final end to a very stressful day. She’d burned the tea – burned salad for God’s sake – fought with Simon and still had a whirlwind of feelings inside. She sat down on the breakfast stool and burst into tears. Too tired to fight him off, and at some inexplicable level still wanting him, she let him wrap his arms around her and coo and fuss and apologise.

‘We’ll be ok, babe he said,’ stroking her hair, ‘I know I’ve been neglecting you but I do still love you, you know.’

She nodded against him and he hugged her. She wished she could have seen his eyes as he said this, but she was buried in his chest, soaking the front of his shirt with hot tears. She wanted to believe him, too – about everything; not believing meant all manner things, some of which involved Lewis. If he had told her that he loved her then her failure to answer that same question earlier in the bathroom wouldn’t have mattered. If she was still loved then she would learn to love again. She would make him want her. But instead, he found the words as hard to say as she had and that was the main reason for the tears.

He pulled her off him and kissed her blotchy face. ‘Now, how about a Chinese? I don’t fancy barbecued chicken’.

She tried to smile, to pretend but she was more confused than ever.

Chapter 6

Dream Ticket - 4

FOUR

The rain may have abated but the chilly wind remained and it bit deep through her thin jumper as she stepped through the double doors into the car park. She wrapped her coat around her and notched the belt, silently cursing the way her almost perfect hair was now reduced to a fluttering mass of brown tassels.

Lewis was nowhere to be seen and she began to doubt her sanity when she saw him in the alcove of the opposite block, waving her over. Her heart lurched again and she walked quickly to meet him.

‘You’re a life saver, Emma!’ he beamed as she handed him the file.

‘No worries,’ she replied, tucking her windswept hair behind her ear, ‘like you say I needed a break, I’ve been staring at that screen for an hour now’.

He tutted and shook his head in a mock scold. ‘Health and safety, young lady - breaks every 15 minutes, vary your focal length, blah blah. ‘ He chuckled ‘It’s crap isn’t it, you’d get nothing done if you stopped work four times an hour’.

‘Tell me about it!’ she exclaimed. ‘Anyway, as if Royle would let us walk around all the time and..,’ she stopped short, remembering that despite everything that she felt and her impossible dream, Lewis was still management and she shouldn’t really feel this easy with him. ‘Well he’s quite strict, I’m not sure I should be down here talking to you actually’. She glanced up at her window expecting her boss to be stood there glaring down at her and tapping his wristwatch.

He seemed to pick up on her wariness. ‘Hey, relax. I can handle Charles. I told him I’d be borrowing one his “angels” to show me around and help me get sorted and he wasn’t too fussed’. He put inverted commas round the word with two fingers of each hand and grinned at her.

She softened and smiled back. ‘Well, ok then, as long as I’m not going to get the boot or anything just because you can’t find the photocopier!’

‘No way!’ He opened the door and ushered her through with a half bow. She jumped slightly again when his hand touched her lower back but it was nothing like the skin on skin contact of before.

* * *

Emma spent an hour in the company of Lewis Anderson, giving him the grand tour. Within five minutes, her initial caution had dissipated and they chatted like old friends, finding an amazing amount of common ground; restaurants, music, films, tennis. As the time passed, she was struck by how well he seemed to know her and the ease with which they could talk. She was drawn further toward him and there was no awkwardness; he was a natural talker with a devilish sense of humour and his brilliant blue eyes sparkled when he smiled - which he did a lot. Emma tried to forget she was married and deliberately kept her left hand out of view, even though she knew he’d probably already knew – isn’t that what all men looked for, that symbol of someone else’s property?

She took him to car park admin to get a pass for the management car park. It wasn’t an excuse to get her downstairs, she rebuked her imagination and then immediately felt a little disappointed by this realisation. She watched him fill the form in and noted first his neat handwriting, then his manicured fingernails and finally that he had a new Jaguar X type.

She took him to Security to have his photograph taken for his ID pass, smirking as he pulled faces when the photographer adjusted the camera.

Finally, she showed him where the goods department and mail room were, dropping Royle’s envelopes into the franking pile. She wiped her hand on her skirt, wondering why all bosses couldn’t be like Lewis.

‘Thanks a million for helping me like this, Emma’ he said as they left the noise and bustle of the mail room behind them, ‘I’ve really enjoyed chatting with you and appreciate your time’.

Time!

She checked her watch. ‘Shit, I’ve been nearly an hour!’ she cried, ‘Royle will do his nut!’.

‘Hey I told you, no worries ok?’ Lewis reassured her, grabbing her hand as she turned to hurry away. She didn’t jump this time, she was getting used to his touches, but it didn’t make it any less pleasant.

‘If he gives you any grief then tell him it was my fault, but he should be a pussy cat. I’ve known him a good few years and know how to play him. You let him think you agree with everything he says; make him feel big, but show him he’s wrong in subtle ways. Often if you let him think it was his idea in the first place, even when he knows it was yours, he’s really grateful! If that’s not too confusing.’

Emma frowned, then raised her eyebrows and laughed. ‘Ok, as long as it works!’

‘Yeah, it has up to now. It allows me to get away with a lot of stuff others get a bollocking for.’ He winked.

‘Can I have my hand back, now?’ she grinned.

He looked down at Emma’s wrist. ‘Sorry’ he said, gently letting go.

Her gaze followed his, then looked up at him, and their eyes met.

‘Don’t be,’ she replied, ‘it’s been ages since I was touched at work!’

What was she saying? Where was all this brazenness suddenly coming from? It was as if she was drawing a new confidence from being with this near stranger.

If he looked embarrassed he never showed it. Instead he just cracked another broad grin replying, ‘Well I don’t usually start on my first day, I usually give myself a week to settle in before groping my colleagues.’

They both laughed. With any other man, there might have been a clumsiness, but Emma felt none. It was so comfortable. She couldn’t even remember being this natural with Simon.

The thought of her husband and what she was doing here; flirting and laughing with a man who, let’s face it, was sex-on-legs suddenly shattered the little fantasy in which she’d been indulging for the last half hour.

‘I need to get back’ she said, breaking free from his eyes, ‘I’ve still got a lot to do before I finish tonight.’

‘Ok, no problem’ he replied, frowning at her sudden change in mood. ‘But don’t worry, I know what you’re thinking and it’s fine.’

She cocked her head on one side ‘Know what?’

‘You’re married. You’ve been having a laugh with me but you feel guilty now. Don’t worry about it.’ He suddenly looked nervous, as if he’d overstepped some mark.

Emma was flustered again, and felt like she did earlier on the phone. Her new-found confidence had deserted her, but she felt a little annoyed instead.

‘How do you know I feel guilty?’ she questioned, a little too sharply.

Lewis held his hands up, took a step back and gave a short anxious laugh. ‘Hey easy, tiger! I think the way you’re defending yourself tells me I’m right! I saw your wedding ring when I shook your hand this morning, so knew you were married. Then Royle called you ‘Mrs Wallace’ and that answered my last question. I just wondered if you’d feel bad about flirting with me’.

‘I have not been flirting!’ Emma lied.

Lewis just raised his eyebrows.

Emma couldn’t keep up her faux annoyance any longer. I shouldn’t really shout at Management, despite what I feel. She smiled and dropped her head, embarrassed.

‘OK… maybe I was a little…’

He laughed, and in a stage whisper replied ‘Don’t worry – so was I’. He grinned his broad, heart-melting smile again.

She blushed, embarrassed at the way she felt, embarrassed at being caught out and embarrassed that he was flirting with her. But delighted, all the same.

‘So what was the question you had, then?’ she asked him.

Now it was his turn to look a little flustered ‘Question?’

‘You said when you heard my name it answered your last question. What question? The ring told you I was married,’ she waggled her finger at him and winked, ‘so what did my name tell you?’

He looked a little sheepish and stared at his shoes. He blinked, swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘Look, this is really embarrassing and I owe you an explanation. I didn’t want to do it yet, but I need to do it properly. This has happened quicker than I thought it would. Can I talk to you tomorrow?’

How mysterious. She was taken aback and felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement. ‘Er.. why?’

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. ‘Look, I know you don’t know me and I can’t expect anything from you now except maybe a feeling of bemusement, let alone trust,’ he gabbled, ‘but please - try and trust me. Tomorrow I’ll explain why I’m here and why we’re having this conversation.’ He sighed again ‘You probably think I’m a bloody nutter now, but I’ll try and prove otherwise if you’ll let me. Honest’.

Emma’s mouth gaped and then snapped shut again ‘Will I be scared?’ she said, randomly.

‘God I hope not, I really do’ he replied taking her hand again, ‘the last thing I wanted was for you to be scared’.

How could her day have taken such a weird route? She had started at a low on the bus, had swung via curiosity when Lewis walked in, dwelled for a while in doubt, taken a long drive into fantasy and now, here she was up a cul-de-sac with what seemed like lunacy. She knew she shouldn’t trust this total stranger, had no reason on earth to even consider believing anything he said, but despite him saying what amounted to the weirdest things anyone had ever said to her, she didn’t feel any fear. Instinct told her there was nothing to be scared of. She knew his name, his car, his aftershave and little else, but here she was about to agree to his crazy terms.

‘The last thing you..?’ she began.

‘Tomorrow. Promise’ he interrupted.

‘Ok then. I’ll wait’ she said solemnly, her head buzzing. ‘But it better be good’ she added.

Lewis patted her hand, closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you Emma. I’ll see you tomorrow’. With this astonishing brevity, he turned and headed for the double doors that led to the car park, leaving a shell-shocked Emma staring after him.

The word ‘Wait’ was on her lips but her throat dried and it remained unsaid.

What the hell was all that about?! Cocked what up? What question did he have? He didn’t want me to be scared? Why? Questions tumbled round her head as she headed back to the lifts. Lewis had gone from being totally gorgeous, great company, smart and composed to a dithering wreck in the space of a minute. Granted, he was still a gorgeously hunky dithering wreck but nonetheless, something had spooked him. She punched the lift button. It all started with me being married. He seemed to go to pieces. But that’s daft - he knew that when he met me. Dazed, she got out on the third floor and almost walked into HR before shaking her head clear and retracing her steps. Not trusting herself in the lift, she took the fire escape down a flight and back to her level.

There was no way she could concentrate for the rest of the afternoon now after her weird encounter with Lewis. She couldn’t operate lift buttons let alone a calculator. It was after 4pm now so she could flexi-finish, even though she usually worked another for two hours. She’d go home early and muse some more on the bus.

As she entered the office and passed Royle’s door he called out to her ‘Have you a second, Emma?’

‘If I have I hope he’s better than my first’ she mumbled to herself, completely not in the mood for the dressing down he would undoubtedly give her. The way she felt she’d probably end up losing her job through back-chatting him.

‘Yes?’ she opened brightly, as she entered.

To her surprise he was smiling.

‘How’s Mr Anderson settling in?’ he beamed.

‘Erm. Great’ she answered, thrown by recent events and her boss’s good mood. ‘I showed him Car Park, got his pass done, pointed out the goods room, warehousing, shop floor, canteen – the works.’

‘Excellent! Told him I’d give him one of my top girls to help him find his feet. Brilliant boy, is Lewis, really good to have him aboard. Got a lot of time for him.’

‘I see’ said Emma, still puzzled for the second time in ten minutes. ‘Have you known him long?’

‘Ha-ha yes! He was under me a few years ago.

Lucky you she thought wickedly, biting her lip and nodding.

‘I can spot potential you see’ Royle went on, waving his pen about. ‘Really surprised when he asked to come here, though. Grateful as hell, of course, but I thought he’d prefer Salford. Lots more.. opportunities’ he said with a wink. ‘Being a single man, of course. To say nothing of his skills of course’.

Oh yes, she’d heard of the “opportunities”. Salford was the buzzing, vibrant, flagship site. Product design, software development and marketing were located there. And lots of young female undergraduates.

She hadn’t seen Royle this animated before, and it was a pleasant change. If a little odd.

‘But no, he approached me after Frank retired and asked if he could move.’

Emma’s eyebrows raised. ‘Really? I heard you brought him in yourself.’

‘Nonsense!’ Royle dismissed the notion with a wave. ‘I wouldn’t curb his potential by bringing him to this sleepy backwater!’

Gee thanks! Emma rolled her eyes.

‘No, he phoned me when the vacancy came up and asked if he could be considered. As far as I was concerned there were no other candidates. Still, he must have his reasons for wanting to change locations. But Salford’s loss is Trafford’s gain!’

His own reasons. What were they, then? Would this be part of tomorrow’s agenda? Emma began to feel that impossible feeling starting again. Hoping and controlling your own destiny. Surely not?

‘Great!’ she exclaimed ‘That’s good for us, yeah?’

‘Indeed, Mrs Wallace indeed! Lewis’s drive will be an example to you all!’

‘Great!’ she repeated and a silence fell between them.

Royle’s manner changed as quickly as it began with a short embarrassed cough, as if he’d been caught wearing his wife’s underwear and was pretending it was normal.

‘Well, yes thank you for your time and assistance sorting Mr Anderson out. I’m sure he’s very appreciative.’

Me too. ‘You’re welcome Mr Royle’ she replied, resisting the urge to curtsey.

‘Ok then, that’s all’ he said dismissively, returning to the paperwork on his desk.

Emma walked out, passed Lewis’s desk and along the side of the other girls’ cubicles. Jane, Maggie and Elaine were all staring at her, open-mouthed as she did.

Did they know where she’d been? How much more?

She flopped back in her seat, the gathering gloom revealing dark shapes beyond her window. That was where her weird little adventure had started just over an hour ago but now she couldn’t see anything, especially hunky men. Her mind was still in freefall and the last thing she wanted right now was a Spanish Inquisition from her friends. Hopefully she’d be able to slip away saying she had one of her migraines.

Royle’s door slammed as he headed out towards the toilet blocks.

Did they know where she’d been?! Of course they did.

There was a noise of rapidly scraping furniture and clicking heels. Emma cringed as her colleagues forced their way into her workspace in an untidy heap

‘You lucky bitch!’ exclaimed Jane, giggling

‘We know where you’ve been for the last half an hour!’ added Maggie, breathless and wide eyed behind her glasses

‘I can’t believe you, Mrs!’ Elaine almost screamed, poking her shoulder with two fingers. ‘We want all the details, everything. You must have found out about his private life, favourites: music, food, sex position! But more importantly..’

‘..is he bloody single?!’ Maggie blurted out. She clamped her hand over her mouth.

All three laughed.

Emma sighed. ‘Girls, girls, have some decorum. Look, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news but - I’ve got a biffing headache, it’s not really gone from lunch. I know I’m lucky, and I can give you all the detail you want – but right now, conversation is the last thing I want - I’ve just got to get home and get my head down.’ She squeezed her temples for effect.

‘But Emma!’ Jane whined.

‘Thank god!’ breathed Elaine. ‘I thought the bad news was that he had a girlfriend!’

‘Nope he’s single,’ Emma replied, ‘but that’s all you’re getting for today, I’m wiped out with this migraine’.

‘Yes!’ screamed all three, clenching their fists. They linked arms and did a little dance.

It was all Emma could do from bursting into laughter and blowing the whole charade. She hated lying to her friends like this but the fact was, she needed some time alone to collect her thoughts and put her questions in order. She did feel emotionally drained as it was and would be glad of the early finish.

‘Come on, he’ll be back soon you know it doesn’t take him long to have a piss. I’ll see you all tomorrow, if you get in early again we can have a gossip before Royle and Lewis arrive.’

‘Aww.. Em’ Maggie protested.

‘Ok love,’ Jane said, hugging her, ‘you get yourself off and take a few Neurofen. We’ll be in at eight tomorrow won’t we girls?’

‘You bet your arse!’ Elaine shot back ‘We want everything, Em and I mean everything you have got on him!’

Emma laughed despite herself ‘Ok! You may be surprised! See you in the morning!’

‘See you, lucky cow!’ they chorused.

She grabbed her bag, picked up her coat and checked the clock. It was 4.15. Nine hours ago she’d been pissed off, but normal. Now she was strangely happy, but felt weird. She needed answers, she needed rest, but most of all she needed it to be tomorrow.

Chapter 5