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Extended Work
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| Confessions of a site secretary | |
| By teddy | ||||||||
| 08 July 2006 | ||||||||
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I am not sure if this would be of any interest to anyone. I would very much appreciate any comments and advice Chapter 1 Paul leaped off the bed and started looking around for his clothes. His shirt was thrown down on the floor and the suit was lying messy on the armchair next to the bed. ‘What are you doing?’ the young woman asked intrigued. She got up, collected her dressing gown of the wardrobe’s door and wrapped herself in it. It was white and silky and made her curves look more appetising. She moved forward, getting very close to him and threw her arms around his neck into a very affectionate embrace. ‘You are not leaving already, are you?’ she whispered softly, lightly brushing his ear lob with her lips. He gently unwrapped her arms and moved away from her, starting buttoning his shirt. ‘I’m afraid I have to.’ he said. ‘But it is Friday night, surely you can stay a bit longer…please!’ she implored. He smiled, untouched. ‘I am sorry but I really have to go. I will call you’’ he said unconvincingly. She knew that she would not be able to change his mind. There was also something in his voice and face expression, which was telling her that he would not call her very soon either. She could not understand what she had done wrong. He seemed more distant than usual. It had been a perfect evening. They dinned out as they would usually do on a Friday night and then returned to her apartment where they made passionate love. They had been seeing each other for three months now and were making a lovely couple. Well, at least this was how she felt. And not only, other people that knew them were sharing her opinion. It was true, he was not the most affectionate man and there were times when she felt that they were not as close as two people who were allegedly emotionally involved should be, but he was a perfect gentleman and, in the same time, an amazing lover. He definitely knew how to treat and please a woman. She was aware that many of her friends were envious of her because of him. She only wished she could persuade him to meet her parents, she was sure they would have highly approved of her choice. ‘Perhaps we can do something together tomorrow’, she tried again ‘my parents would be delighted to have us for supper tomorrow night’. ‘I am really sorry but I have already made plans.’ he cut her hopes short. ‘Nevertheless, I am sure they do not include me’ she thought bitterly. ‘I will ask the porter to call you a cab.’ she said giving up. ‘Thank you.’ She walked to the small table sited by the window and picked up the phone. She dialled the reception number and waited for an answer. ‘Good evening, Miss Goddard.’ a voice at the other end greeted her. ‘Good evening, Julian. Could you possibly call Mr Harold a cab, please?’ she enquired. ‘Not a problem, Miss. It should be with you very shortly. I shall let you know when it arrives.’ ‘Thank you, Julian.’ She turned back to Paul: ‘Your cab will be here soon. Would you like a drink while you’re waiting?’ ‘No, thank you.’ he replied. ‘I shall go and wait downstairs. Good night.’ he kissed her briskly on the cheek and, before she could add anything else, left. In the lobby Paul pressed the button to call the elevator, waited for a second, then changed his mind and took the stairs. Joanne’s apartment was on the fourth floor in an exclusive six storeys building located in one of the prettiest parts of northwest London. Although in the vicinity of the vibrant life of the city centre, the area had a very tranquil feeling and was popular with young urban professionals and middle-class businessmen, eager to get away at night from their busy daily schedules and the hectic rhythm of the city. In the reception area, Julian was making himself busy watching the shadows of a very few passers by marching along the building. When he saw Paul, his apathetic expression turned into a jovial smile. He knew Paul from his previous visits to Miss Goddard and found him very pleasant, friendly and unaffected ‘unlike some other rich arrogant bastards that he was forced to come in contact with quite often’ Julian thought. ‘How are you this evening, Sir?’ he asked politely. ‘I am very well, thank you, Julian. How about yourself? It appears to be quiet tonight’ Paul noticed, catching a glimpse of the outside’s silent darkness through the downstairs’ large window, ‘rather unusual for a Friday evening even for a peaceful place like this, isn’t it?’ ‘Well, I can assure you that things will look different in an hour time, Sir, when people will start coming home from the pub’ Julian replied with a grin. ‘Hmmm, perhaps you are right, Julian’ Paul said checking his wristwatch. It was just gone half past ten. They spent another two or three minutes chatting away when they heard the noise of a car engine and saw two flashing lights approaching the building’s entrance. ‘That must be your cab, Sir’ ‘Yes, it must be. Thank you, Julian. Good night’ said Paul, moving towards the door. ‘Good night, Sir’ Once in the taxi, Paul gave the driver directions for his destination and then relaxed in the backseat. The car drove slowly along the quite street then took a turn at the end. After few minutes it was rolling silently into the main road of the area. Paul looked out the window for a while, watching the animated scenery offered by the city’s Friday nightlife and then he turned his thoughts to his tomorrow’s schedule. Although it will be Saturday, he decided that he would spend the morning hours at the office, just to ensure that all the documentation was in place for the following Monday’s meeting with the city’s officials. Harold and Co. was on the brink of clenching an extremely important deal to design a very prestigious project in the West End and Paul couldn’t afford even the smallest mistakes. He would also discuss the last details and arrangements with the administrative team and his architects. Around midday, he would meet Will and Richard at the club for lunch. That would be the most indulging part of the day, he thought, apart from the cricket match that would follow. Playing cricket was one of his big passions, induced to him by his father when he was fifteen. In the afternoon, after the cricket game, he will drive all the way to his parents’ estate in Kent where he will stay until Sunday afternoon. Until few years ago, his parents spent most of their adult life shared between their country mansion, The Old Oak Tree, in the wonderful countryside of Kent district and a Victorian house in the exquisite area of Chelsea in London. When his father decided that it was just about time to hand over the running of Harold’s to his son, they left London for good and the Chelsea residence in favour of a quite life in the country and the Old Oak Tree estate. They pressured Paul to sell his own apartment and move into the London pad, forcing his hand by invoking emotional grounds: they could not possibly endure to sell the home where the family spent so many happy moments together and could not bear the idea of the house not being lived in either. ‘One day it will be all yours anyway’ his dad used to say to support their cause. In the end, Paul had to give up and satisfy their wishes. From his mother’s Sunday lunch his thoughts jumped to Joanne. He knew she was the type of girl his parents would not hesitate to welcome into their family. With a very solid background – her father was running a very profitable printing business and her mother was a successful lawyer –, sophisticated and well educated with high career prospective herself, Joanne would’ve made the perfect daughter-in-law for them. His mother would find her a little too thin and his father would think she was perhaps a bit too pale and would advise her to spend more time in the sun, just as he did, Paul smiled, but these would be about the only faults they could possibly find in her. Joanne was intelligent and she made good company; she had a perfect figure: tall, slim, but, in the same time, with alluring round shapes. Her face had highly distinctive features: high cheekbones, big blue eyes bordered by long lashes and perfectly shaped eyebrows and an immaculate fair complexion. With her shoulder length wavy rich blonde hair, she was, no doubt, a very attractive woman Paul turned his eyes to the cab window again. Fast cars were passing by, their lights flashing their way into the night with beeping horns and noisy engines, a crowd of people was wondering up and down on the pedestrian paths along the heavily lighted buildings. At the corner, a couple was kissing aggressively passionate as they were trying to squeeze the last breath of life of each other. For a second Paul hated himself thinking of what he was about to do. He would have to stop dating Joanne even though he knew that it would hurt her. Better now rather than later, he thought, when things would only get more complicated. The girl was already too involved, she seemed besotted with him and, although Paul would’ve liked to continue seeing her for a little longer, he could not afford to take any risks. He liked her but his feelings were far from being as strong and deep as he knew she would expect them to be. ‘Here we are, Sir’ the driver’s voice brought him back from his reveries. The car was stopped in front of his house. ‘Thank you’ He got out of the car, paid the driver and fetched his keys. He looked at the building in front of him and smiled. Mary, the housekeeper, always made sure that she left the vestibule’s lights on. He wondered if she did it for safety reasons or just to make the house look more welcoming when he was coming home late at night. Once inside, Paul walked straight into the living room. He switched the lights on. Everything was immaculately clean and in a perfect order. The bouquet of flowers nicely arranged in the vase by the window made the room look fresh and lively. On the coffee table a note left by Mary was reminding him that the gardener was coming tomorrow to cut the grass. The red light of the answering machine was flashing impatiently requiring attention. Paul pressed its button to listen to the awaiting messages. His mother’s voice filled the room immediately. ‘Paul, it’s your mother. You supposed to call us today to let us know what time we should expect you tomorrow. Obviously you have forgotten. Well, I shall call you again in the morning. Do not forget, we will have guests for dinner tomorrow night. Don’t be late. Good night. However, don’t go yet. Your father wants a word.’ ‘Hello, Paul’ he heard his dad ‘I just want to congratulate you for the Harold’s latest achievement. Let’s hope that nothing will go wrong at Monday’s meeting. Anyway, well done so far. No doubt you will tell me all the details about it tomorrow night over a glass of wine. Good night, son.’ While listening to his parents’ messages, Paul had taken his coat off and poured himself a glass of scotch. It had been a long day and he felt tired. The next message was from the office. Caroline, his PA, wanted to know what time he will be at the office in the morning. She must have left the message before she managed to catch him on his mobile, he thought. Paul switched the TV on. He made himself comfortable on the sofa, sipping slowly the strong liquor from the glass in his hand. ‘Paul, it’s me.’ the next voice recorded by the answering machine made him startle. It was an unexpected one that he had not heard in ages. ‘I know my call will come as a bit of a shock to you but, Paul, I need to see you. Please phone me tonight or tomorrow so we can arrange to meet somewhere. It is important. So please do phone me as soon as you can. My number is ….’ Paul was starring confused at the answering machine. That was indeed a much unexpected call. He felt a huge urge to pick up the phone and ring back the number but, looking at the clock, changed his mind. It was almost midnight. He laid down on the sofa trying to figure out what was all this about. Why would someone, with who he did not have any contact for so long, call him after all this time asking to see him? And what was so important that he should have known? It was weird. With his mind still wondering about this, Paul fell asleep. He woke up with a very uneasy feeling and realised he was heavily sweating. There had been a long time since he had last dreamt about Adi. And there she was again, in his dream, torturing him: they were somewhere on top of a cliff by the sea and she was joking and laughing. It was a lovely sunny day and she looked beautiful in her white dress. She was getting closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. Paul tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen. She was now on the brink of the cliff. She was watching the immense abyss opening at her feet and didn’t look at all scared. Paul was begging her to move away from the edge when she suddenly fell. He started screaming her name in his dream, which made him wake up brusquely. He looked at the clock again. It was just gone midnight. He had been asleep for no longer than few minutes. He got up and moved to the small cabinet on which the TV was placed. He watched the TV screen for a second before turning it off. ‘The police and forensic teams are working around the clock to identify the victims of the Liverpool Street train crash ….’ he heard the BBC news presenter’s voice announcing. ‘This is absolutely awful’ he thought and then decided it was time to get some proper rest. He would have a busy schedule in front of him tomorrow. He went upstairs and jumped in the shower. In there, he let the warm water jet wash away all the thoughts that were troubling his mind at that moment. ‘I’ll deal with all these in a proper manner tomorrow’ he promised himself. The next morning, Paul got woken up by the noise made by a drop through the letter box. It must be the newspaper boy, he thought, or maybe the postman. He got off the bed and walked downstairs. There weren’t any newspapers or mail lying on the floor, he could see a small package dropped down by the door instead. What is this, he asked himself. He went by and picked it up. It had his name written on it but no address. He unwrapped it slowly. It was a diary. And a short note attached to it. ‘Paul, I know I asked you to call me but I have decided that, before we would meet up, it would be better for both if you read this. Thanks.’ For a second, Paul looked at the diary in his hands, puzzled. Then he opened it. The handwriting looked extremely familiar. It was Adi’s! Paul felt his hands sweating while holding the book. He could not understand the circumstances and why this was handed over to him. The only thing he knew was that he would not be able to leave it until he read it all. Somehow, he had a strange feeling that whatever was written in there might answer some of the questions that had been haunting him for a long time. He called his office and told Caroline that they would have to manage without him that day. And then he called his parents, apologising for not being able to make it to Kent that weekend. He walked into the study, sat down in the big leather chair by his desk and started reading Adi’s notes.
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