Dirty Bad Wrong(83)

My blood turned to ice. “What the hell do you mean, Lydia’s gone?”

She looked at me like I was retarded, like I was the only person on the planet not in the loop. “She’s in the main meeting room with Frank,” she said. “Handing in her notice. Wants to get away from an ex or something, you know the one you kapowed in reception? Seems you giving him the shoe wasn’t enough, she’s off. Brighton apparently, got a job with White Hastings McCarthy.”

I felt the colour drain from me. “She’s doing what?”

“Poached by Trevor White I think, rumour has it there’s something going on there. I hope so, Lydia’s a nice girl.”

“Where is she now?” I hissed.

She rolled her eyes. “I told you already, she’s down with Frank, signing off her leaving arrangements. She’s not coming back, not even for a single day, how shit is that?”

“Excuse me, Emily.” I stormed from my desk, uncaring of the way she was flapping her mouth for my attention.

“But what about me?” she said. “What about Salmons?”

I pointed to the file on my desk. “Knock yourself out, Emily, I couldn’t give two fucking shits about Salmons.”



***



My heart jumped into my throat as I caught sight of Lydia through the meeting room door. She looked pasty, sick, worse than she had done those months ago in the kitchen. All over again I watched her dither, a tiny sparrow on a branch, clawing for grip. I hovered awhile, until finally her eyes met mine through the glass panel. She looked away instantly, straight down at the paperwork in front of her. Frank carried on oblivious, chortling on about some bullshit or other, I’m sure.

I opened the door without knocking, and Frank jolted in his seat. “James!” he said. “Come to say goodbye? It’s so bloody sad, isn’t it? We’re all so sorry to see you go, Lydia.”

“I need to speak with Lydia a minute, please Frank, outside.”

He looked from me to her, then turned his attention to his paperwork. “I’ve got some forms to fill in,” he said “Carry on.”

“Please, Lydia,” I said. “Just a minute.”

She shrugged, sliding from her seat like a ghost, trailing me to the doorway. I shut the door behind us, all so aware of the bustle all around. We were right in the heart of the admin gossip hive, right amongst the thrum of twitchy ears and twitchy mouths.

“Can we go upstairs?” I asked. “It’s much more private.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have long. I’ve got to sort my things.”

“You’re really going to Brighton? To Trevor?”

“It was that or Warwick,” she said. “And Mum’s doing fine without me, she’s happy with Mr Bingo.”

I cast my eyes about, checking for eavesdroppers. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lydia, I never meant to hurt you.”

Her eyes pooled instantly, but this time she made no move to choke it back, none at all. “It’s ok,” she said. “It was casual, we both knew that.”

“It wasn’t casual,” I whispered. “None of this was casual.”

“It’s funny,” she said, with a sad smile. “I spent my whole life trying to be strong, trying not to cry, but I was wrong. Breaking isn’t weak, James, it’s strong. Being able to wear your heart on your sleeve and let other people see your pain, that’s strong. I was hurt after Stuart, really hurt, but it never hurt like you did. Losing you was a million times worse than Stuart ever was, and that’s ok, because it set me free.” She smiled as she wiped tears from her eyes. “You know, I got so sad I even rang my mum. I rang her and I told her everything, because nothing could feel worse than I felt anyway, nothing she could say would be that bad.”

My eyes were heavy, they burnt under the weight of her gaze. “What did she say?”

“She said a lot,” Lydia smiled. “More than I expected, and it helped. You know what I figured? I spent so much of my life being strong for other people, that I had no idea how to let them be strong for me. I never gave Mum a chance to be there, I never ever let her in.” She put a hand on my arm. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for breaking me.”

My hands were clammy, shaking. I could hardly swallow for the pain in my throat. “Don’t do this, Lydia, please don’t go. You were right and I was wrong, we can get over this, it was nothing, a storm in a teacup. The world didn’t end here, Cat, not with Stuart storming in, it ended when you walked out. Please don’t leave.”

“And then what? We go back to being Lydia and James, professional co-workers?”