‘The school.’
‘Oh. About that.’ He lowered his voice.
‘You have to go, you promised.’ She stopped buttering the bread to look at him with instant anger.
‘Lucy showed me the dance downstairs and we had a talk, so she’s fine about me not being there.’ He picked at a slice of ham. ‘Do you know why the hell she’s a leaf in a nativity play?’
Ruth laughed. ‘Lou, I know you’re playing with me. I told you to put this in your diary last month. And then I reminded you last week, and I called that woman Tracey at the office –’
‘Ah, that’s what happened.’ He clicked his fingers in a gosh, darn-it kind of way. ‘Wires crossed. Tracey’s gone. Alison replaced her. So maybe there was a problem when they switched over.’ He tried to say it playfully, but Ruth’s happy face was slowly dissolving to disappointment, hatred, disgust, all rolled into one and all directed at him.
‘I mentioned it twice last week. I mentioned it yesterday morning, I’m like a frigging parrot with you and you still don’t remember. The school play and then dinner with your mum, dad, Alexandra and Quentin. And Marcia might be coming, if she can move around her therapy session.’
‘No, she really shouldn’t miss that.’ Lou rolled his eyes. ‘Ruthy, please, I would rather stick pins in my eyes than have dinner with them.’
‘They’re your family, Lou.’
‘All Quentin talks about are boats. Boats, boats, and more bloody boats. It is totally beyond him to think of any other conversation that doesn’t involve the words boom and cleat.’
‘You used to love sailing with Quentin.’
‘I used to love sailing. Not necessarily with Quentin, and that was years ago, I’d hardly know my boom from my cleat at this stage.’ He groaned. ‘Marcia … it’s not therapy she needs, it’s a good kick up the arse. Alexandra’s fine.’ He trailed off, lost in thought.
‘The boat or his wife,’ Ruth asked sarcastically, giving him a long sidelong look.
Lou didn’t hear her or ignored her. ‘I don’t know what she sees in Quentin, I can never figure it out. She’s in a totally different league to him.’
‘Your league, you mean?’ Ruth snapped.
‘It’s just that she’s a model, Ruth.’
‘So?’
‘The only thing Quentin has in common with a model is the fact he collects model boats.’ He laughed, then moved on, irritation quickly setting in. ‘Mum and Dad are coming too?’ he asked. ‘No way.’
‘Tough,’ she said, continuing with her lunch-making. ‘Lucy is expecting you at the play, your parents are excited, and I need you here. I can’t do the dinner and play host all on my own.’
‘Mum will help you.’
‘Your mother just had a hip replacement.’ Ruth tried her best not to shriek.
‘Don’t I know it, I collected her from hospital and got into trouble for it, like I said I would,’ he grumbled. ‘While Quentin was off on his boat.’
‘He was racing, Lou!’ She dropped the knife and turned to him, softening. ‘Please.’ She kissed him softly on the lips and he closed his eyes, lingering in the rare moment.
‘But I’ve so much to do at work,’ he said softly amid their kiss. ‘It’s important to me.’
Ruth pulled away. ‘Well, I’m glad something is, Lou, because for a moment there I almost thought you weren’t human.’ She was silent as she buttered the bread fiercely, the knife hitting the brown bread so roughly that it made holes. She slapped down slices of ham, tossed a slice of cheese at it then pushed down on the bread and sliced it diagonally with a sharp knife. She moved about the kitchen, slamming presses and violently ripping tin foil from the teeth of the packaging.
‘Okay, what’s up?’
‘What’s up? We’re not in this life just to work, we’re in it to live. We have to start doing things together, and that means you doing things for me even when you don’t want to, and vice versa. Otherwise, what’s the point?’
‘What do you mean vice versa, when do I ever make you do anything you don’t want to?’
‘Lou,’ she gritted her teeth, ‘they’re your bloody family, not mine.’
‘So cancel it! I don’t care.’
‘You have family responsibilities.’
‘But I have more work responsibilities, family can’t fire me if I don’t turn up to a bloody dinner, can they?’
‘Yes, they can, Lou,’ she said quietly, ‘they just don’t call it being fired.’
‘Is that a threat?’ He lowered his voice angrily. ‘You can’t throw comments like that at me, Ruth, it’s not fair.’
She opened a Barbie lunch box, slammed it down on the counter, threw in the sandwich, pineapple rings and kidney beans in Tupperware, a Barbie napkin was laid on top and she banged it closed. Despite being tossed around, Barbie didn’t blink once.
Ruth just looked at him and said nothing, allowing her stare to speak for her.
‘Okay, fine, I’ll do my best to be there,’ Lou said, both to please her and to get out of the house at the very same time, yet not meaning a word of it. On her look, he rephrased it with more meaning. ‘I’ll be there.’
Lou arrived at his office at eight a.m. A full hour before another soul would arrive, it was important for him to be the first in, it made him feel efficient, ahead of the pack. Pacing the small empty space of the elevator and wishing it was like that every day, he revelled in not having to stop at any other floors before getting to the fourteenth. He stepped out of the elevator into the quiet corridor. He could smell the products left behind from the cleaning staff last night. The carpet shampoo, furniture polish and air-fresheners still lingered, as yet untainted by morning coffee and body smells. Outside the glistening windows it was still pitch black at the early winter hour, and the windows seemed cold and hard. The wind whipped outside and he looked forward to leaving the eerily empty corridors and getting to his office for his morning routine.
En route to his office he stopped suddenly in his tracks. He could see that, as usual for this hour, Alison’s desk was empty, but his office door was ajar and the lights were on. He walked briskly towards the door and his heart began pounding with anger as, through the open door, he saw Gabe moving around his office. He yelled, then ran and fired his fist at the door, punching it open and watching it swing violently. He opened his mouth to yell again, but before he could get his words out he heard another voice coming from behind the door.
‘My goodness, who’s that?’ came the startled voice of his boss.
‘Oh, Mr Patterson. I’m sorry,’ Lou said breathlessly, quickly stopping the door from slamming against his face, ‘I didn’t realise you were in here.’ He rubbed his hand, his fist stinging and beginning to throb from punching the door.
‘Lou,’ the man said, catching his breath after taking a leap away from the door, ‘call me Laurence, for Christ’s sake, I keep telling you that. You’re full of … energy today, aren’t you?’ He tried to get his bearings after the shock.
‘Good morning, sir.’ Lou looked from Mr Patterson to Gabe uncertainly. ‘I’m sorry to have frightened you. I just thought that there was somebody in here who shouldn’t be.’ His eyes landed on Gabe.
‘Good morning, Lou,’ Gabe said politely.
‘Gabe.’ Lou slowly nodded at him in acknowledgement, wanting nothing more