When She Was Bad(27)

‘You can’t blame Rachel for that,’ he said. ‘She didn’t ask for Gill to be fired. She was offered a job and she took it. Same as any of us would have done.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Sarah retorted.

They were at the bar buying more wine. After all the fuss she’d made about having to leave early, Sarah didn’t seem in any hurry to go. Instead she’d spent the last half-hour talking to the sales team who were gathered around a different table.

‘It’d look bad if I left,’ she told him. ‘Rachel will think it’s because of her.’

This was just what Ewan hated about working in a female-heavy environment. Everyone second-guessing what other people might be thinking. Why couldn’t Sarah just do what she wanted and then if there was a reaction she could deal with it, and if not, then no problem?

‘Actually, Ewan,’ Rachel was calling across from the table. His stomach liquefied when she said his name. ‘Could you get me a vodka and tonic? I can’t do pub wine, I’m afraid.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Sarah muttered under her breath.

Rejoining the main group at the table, Ewan could sense the hostility coming from the others. He wasn’t the world’s most sensitive bloke, he knew that, but even he could feel the tension. Gill was wearing that fake smile he recognized from various meetings over the years where things weren’t going to plan. Paula was perched awkwardly on her seat as if she was sitting on a pineapple or something. She looked hot and bothered. Probably she wasn’t used to going out at night, he supposed. She was getting on a bit now. Fifties? Sixties even? Seeing her next to Rachel was like putting an aged, slightly manky pet cat next to a cheetah.

‘Thanks for the drink,’ Rachel said as he sat down. She’d tied her long black hair up, but silky tendrils escaped at the front and neck. He fought back an urge to blow on them, just to watch them flutter against her skin.

Instead he turned to Charlie, next to him. ‘You looking at porn?’ he said, to cover his sudden embarrassment. Charlie’s head was bent over his phone, revealing the thinning patch at the back he was so sensitive about.

‘Grindr,’ came the reply. ‘Although it might as well be porn. Look at this fox.’

He flashed Ewan an image of a paunchy, middle-aged man sitting back on a sofa with his legs splayed, wearing a pair of boxers and a big smile.

‘Euw. That’s disgusting.’

Charlie smiled.

‘Actually there is someone who’s pretty hot. What do you think?’

He called up a photograph of a man Ewan reckoned to be in his early thirties, with curling dark hair and chiselled cheekbones.

‘Not my type, mate.’

‘His name’s Stefan. He lives in the next road. And he’s at home now.’

‘What – and you’d just go round there? Even though you’ve never met the guy before and he could be an axe murderer?’

‘Which is exactly my type, as it happens.’

‘Seriously, though, wouldn’t you be worried? He could be anyone. Maybe that’s not even his photo. Maybe he’s some fat old geriatric bloke in a string vest.’

‘Nothing wrong with a string vest.’

Ewan smiled, but he didn’t feel nearly as comfortable with this conversation as he was trying to appear. Charlie was OK – although Ewan had never completely shaken off the conviction that the guy secretly fancied him – but this side of his life was just a bit, well . . . grubby. One time when Charlie got drunk at a Christmas party, he’d confided in Ewan that he was lonely. Ewan, who’d only been in the job then for a couple of months, had been mortified by the unwelcome confession. ‘I’m sure you’ll find someone,’ he’d said lamely and immediately changed the subject. Charlie had never mentioned it again. It wasn’t that Ewan had anything against Charlie, he just didn’t feel comfortable discussing other people’s private lives. He’d always been like that, always struggled with intimacy.

‘Anyway, think I’ll slip away in a bit. See what he’s like. Gives me an excuse to get out of here. Can’t handle this crazy party atmosphere.’

Ewan half expected Rachel to leave too. She must be able to tell that her presence was putting a damper on things. But she stayed in place at the table sipping her vodka and tonic through a straw and making small talk with Gill, quite as if she hadn’t just swiped her job from under her, even if it hadn’t been her fault.

Paula got up to make a speech. She looked nervous and Ewan wondered if she was having to revise what she’d been planning to say in view of Rachel being here. She was never particularly confident talking in front of a group of people. When he got to her position, no one would be able to shut him up. Even so, surely there must be something more to say about Gill after eight years than that she was ‘firm but supportive’? What was she, a sofa?