Chapter Thirty-Five
Amber ended the call to her sister and briefly massaged her temples. She felt emotionally wrecked. The events of the weekend were overtaking her faster than a jockey riding a Grand National winner. She’d have a proper catch-up with her family very soon. Maybe even spend a weekend with her parents. She needed a complete break from New Ash Green’s nattering neighbours nudging each other every time she came out of her house. It was inevitable that people gossiped, but hopefully something else would distract pensioners like Edith and Mr Jefferies who had nothing better to do with their time. There hadn’t been so much excitement since Derek the postman had delivered their mail wearing full make-up and a dress.
Although Amber was glad her cheating scumbag of a boyfriend had gone, it was only natural she felt miserable. Much as she loved Mr Tomkin, he was unable to sweep her into his paws and whisper that everything would be all right. Her gloom was heightened by the behaviour of Dee and Chrissie. Amber could see how distracted both women were. Dee was preoccupied with this Harry guy who didn’t just have a James Bond job, but looked like him too. And Chrissie had terrible mentionitis about Jack. Amber wasn’t silly. She’d seen the way Jack had looked at her friend. Amber suspected that if Chrissie stepped back over the threshold of The Beagle and Bugle, it wouldn’t be only the pints getting pulled.
Both Dee and Chrissie had assured Amber they felt wretched, but Amber didn’t believe them. Far from being hungover, Chrissie had bounced into the office as if her stilettoes had been pogo sticks. Instead of getting on with a pile of tapes, she’d picked up the phone to make an appointment with a hairdresser in her lunch hour. She’d then told them she was going to Bluewater, after work, as she wanted to update her wardrobe.
‘Now that I don’t have to stump up money for Andrew, I’m going to splash some cash on clothes. Do either of you fancy joining me?’
‘I’d like to,’ said Dee, trying and failing to sound sincere. ‘But I’d prefer to be at home, in case I need to ring Harry.’ Or in case Harry rings me, she’d privately thought.
‘What about you, Amber?’
‘Well–’
‘Sorry to interrupt, ladies,’ said Steve, walking into the open-plan office with two coffees, ‘but I’d like you, Amber, in my office.’
Amber inwardly groaned. Ah well. She’d wanted to be distracted by work, so she might as well get on with it. She picked up her notebook and pen.
‘Leave that,’ said Steve, disappearing into his office.
Amber looked after him in surprise, then followed her boss into his office.
‘Shut the door, Amber,’ said Steve.
‘Yes, sir,’ she quipped. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I think that’s my line.’
‘Eh?’
‘I made you coffee.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking the mug and sipping gratefully.
‘So, I gather you’ve thrown Matthew out.’
Amber nearly dropped the coffee in her lap. ‘Blimey,’ she said, puffing out her cheeks. ‘News travels fast. Are you by any chance related to one of my nosey neighbours?’
‘No,’ said Steve. ‘I simply want to make sure you’re all right.’
Amber was so touched, she burst into tears. ‘I-I’m so s-sorry,’ she stuttered, foraging up her sleeve for a tissue, but not finding one.
‘Here,’ said Steve, giving her his own handkerchief.
‘Th-Thank you,’ she hiccupped. She pressed the pristine square to her eyes, desperate to rescue her mascara. One cotton corner tickled her nose, and she caught a whiff of Steve’s lovely aftershave. ‘Sorry to blub. Yes, you’re right. I’ve chucked Matthew out. It was all high drama, and rather embarrassing. You know me. Never afraid to make a fool of herself, and then stop and think about it after the event.’
‘Amber,’ said Steve softly. An observer would have said his tone was tender.
‘Yes?’ She looked up at him, eyes brimming. She was lucky to work for such a kind man. She was quite sure Steve wasn’t the first boss to witness his assistant falling apart, but she was positive not many employees would be given such a long rein for their private upsets. Especially at the rate she’d been having them.
‘I do know what you’re going through, you know. What about, after work, I take you out to dinner? You can tell me about it over a glass of wine.’
For a moment Amber was nonplussed. ‘I can’t drink and drive.’
‘I know,’ said Steve, with a smile. One of Amber’s eyelashes had worked its way loose from her lower lid, and adhered to a damp cheek. Despite being heartbroken, she looked incredibly beautiful. ‘What about you go home, have a rest, and I’ll pick you up around six.’
Amber stared at Steve in confusion. ‘Go home? What, now?’
‘Yes, now.’ Steve wanted to protect Amber from the gossip fall-out that was inevitable once Katherine Colgan had left the premises. There was no way young Jessica was going to keep her mouth shut when she discovered Kate wasn’t working her notice. Steve wanted to be the one to break the bad news to Amber, rather than her hearing it from someone else.
‘But…but…there’s no need for me to go home, surely?’ Amber felt befuddled, even though a part of her was longing to do just that – back to her duvet and the peaceful world of sleep. ‘How will you cope without me?’
‘That’s why the firm has a float secretary,’ said Steve. ‘I’m sure Chrissie will help.’ Privately Steve knew Chrissie would have her work cut out, because Clive Derek would require secretarial cover once Kate had left.
‘I think you should know,’ said Amber, ‘that Chrissie didn’t have a good weekend either. Or Dee. We’re kind of all in the same situation.’
Steve rather doubted that either Chrissie or Dee had lost their boyfriend to the office siren, but right now he wanted Amber off the premises. ‘You’re a sweet girl to care about Chrissie and Dee, but my concern is you.’
‘Well, all right,’ said Amber doubtfully, ‘as long as you’re sure.’
‘I’m very sure.’
‘And…um…what about your…you know,’ she trailed off awkwardly.
Steve looked mystified. ‘My what?’
‘Your mate,’ Amber whispered.
‘What’s he got to do with it?’
‘I don’t want him feeling put out because you’re not home for dinner.’
‘Why would he feel put out?’
‘Come on, Steve. Enough of this pretence. You don’t need to mollycoddle your secretary after office hours, when you could be at home with your feet up sharing a beer with your man.’ Amber noticed Steve’s lips twitch, and his eyes twinkled mischievously.
‘You’re right,’ Steve nodded. ‘Honesty is the best policy. After I’ve finished here, I do like to slob around with my man.’
Ah ha, thought Amber. I was right. There is a man.
‘But the man is a little man, and he drinks cocoa rather than beer.’
‘Pardon?’ said Amber. Was her boss shacked up with a dwarf who liked mugs of milk rather than pints of lager?
‘Contrary to what you think, I live with my son.’
‘Your son?’ said Amber, looking dumbfounded. ‘You have a son?’
‘Yes. His name is Danny. He’s five years old. I like to keep my private life just that. I have my reasons.’
‘W-What?’ Amber couldn’t take it in.
‘Look, let’s do some straight talking – no pun intended – this evening, eh? Danny is having a sleepover with his grandparents tonight, so I don’t have to rush home. There are things you need to know, Amber, and I want to be the one to tell you.’
‘Right,’ Amber nodded, although she hadn’t a clue what Steve was talking about. She was still struggling to get her head around what he’d told her. All that chit-chat about going cycling with his mate, playing football with his mate, going up the driving range with his mate. She inwardly groaned. He’d been doing all those things with his son. ‘But, hang on a minute,’ she frowned, ‘where’s Danny’s mother?’
‘Later,’ said Steve firmly. ‘Now go home. Put your head down. I’ll see you at six.’
Amber stood up. She felt quite bemused. Steve Hood wasn’t gay? Oh my God, Steve Hood wasn’t gay!