After All - Part Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four

                “Wow.” Brandy stood and refilled their coffee cups, digesting all that Dylan had said.

                “I’ve screwed up Brandy.”

She nodded, “I never liked Louise, you KNOW that, but that’s not what’s swaying me here. Since you’ve been in London I’ve spoken to Mattie several times, she’s SO nice. She sent me some proper tea a couple of weeks ago.”

Dylan closed her eyes, “I get it, she’s a bloody saint and I’ve screwed her over AGAIN.”

Brandy chuckled, “I cannot believe you were married to her. That has stunned me.”

He opened his eyes, “am I THAT unsuitable?”

She shook her head, “not at all, you’re a very eligible bachelor; I just can’t believe that you kept it quiet...or that you have caused so much chaos for the poor thing.”

                “What about me?”

Brandy laughed, “you? You in your gilded cage here? You have the world at your feet, running a multimillion dollar conglomerate of businesses. What about her? She was a manager at a hotel. Hardly the greatest salary, I guess she needs the job, and now you’ve forced her to resign.”

Dylan hung his head, suitably told as Brandy continued, “on the occasions I’ve spoken to her I’ve found her to be very flexible, helpful, but also efficient. I’d have trusted the hotel in her hands.”

                “Well she’s gone. And there’s nothing I can do about that, so we move on.”

Brandy laughed, “there’s ALWAYS something you can do about that, and do NOT expect me to hang around here if you don’t get someone decent to replace her, you are away from this office FAR too much as it is. I don’t get paid enough to ‘be you’.”

He lifted his head and looked at her sceptically out of one eye, “you have always had a penchant for the over dramatic, and you miss earn MORE than enough. Your last pay rise saw to that, daylight robbery that was!”

She paused, then her voice became serious, “and that was because I am worth it, you trust me to man the fort. THAT is important when you travel like you do. This hotel...it’s kind of like a baby to you, you want to see it do well. For that you need someone you trust in charge. However spectacularly you argued, you TRUST Mattie, and more importantly you NEED her.”

She pulled herself to her feet, “I’ll forward you the agenda for tomorrow’s meeting.”

He gave a nod, then hung his head, what the hell was he going to do?

                “Your ex husband FIRED you?”

Mattie laughed shaking her head as the three middle aged men that she’d debated the merits, or lack of, of David Cameron with were now all stood staring open mouthed.

                “I’d not put up with that!”                                                                                                 

                “No, he didn’t sack me! I resigned.”

Philip the middle of the three shook his head, “why?”

Mattie, several pints of beer to the good and couldn’t help but laugh, “for the same reason I divorced him, unreasonable behaviour!”

The four of them laughed together until John the man nearest shook his head too, “you’re crazy. If he sacked you then you’d be able to take a chunk of his money, then laugh at him.”

Mattie considered that for a moment, “but it was so good making him look a complete tit in front of everyone. It was my reward enough.”

Dennis, the third of the trio of bricklayers who were spending their evening in the same pub as her turned to her, “but you’ve got it all wrong. That little snippet of victory only lasts until he replaces you.”

Philip laughed, “he ain’t gonna replace her very easily, now come on. Tall, pretty, knows her politics...AND she can handle a few pints of beer. He ain’t never gonna find another you!”

Mattie grinned, “well thank you Philip. That is very kind, but he has brought an American colleague over with him...that’s who stirred the shit.”

                “A sceptic tank!” Dennis announced, “and you left her to take your place?”

Mattie shrugged, “It wasn’t the same once he was involved. I loved my job, but need my sanity more. So if you know of any jobs going...I am a keen worker!”

John leaned in putting a hand on her shoulder, “what you like with cement and a trowel?”

Grimacing she reached for her pint and drained the glass, “I’ll pass on that skill!” Then she gestured to the barman, “another four for us please!”

He nodded, having partaken in several of their conversations over the past two hours.  

As she was about to pay the door in the corner of the room opened and in burst three men, the last of whom was Andy, her friend.

                “Andy!” She called out. “I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon.”

He rushed over, and gave her a hug, “what’s happened? Why are you here? I’ve never seen you in a pub in the middle of the day.”

Aware that she was a little drunk she sighed, “well, I resigned. So I am here having my sorrows drunk by these three lovely men. Philip, John, Dennis, this is my friend and neighbour Andy...Andy, these are the greatest builders in the world.”

Andy shook his head in bewilderment, watching her laugh with the three almost strangers, the irony was that it was the happiest she’d been in years, she knew in her drunken state that he’d not ever seen her so carefree.

He tried to talk to her, be sensible and serious, but she was having none of it.

                “They’re bringing out the karaoke machine later, but first we’re going to have some chips!” She said that with a ridiculous smile that he couldn’t help giving in to her enthusiasm.

The ringing of her phone penetrated the pain and fogginess that seemed to encase her whole being. Mattie reached for the bedside table patting around manically searching helplessly for her phone. She finally managed to locate it, still ringing and vibrating and managed to peel open one eye to register the ‘unknown number’ calling her. With a sign she dropped her head and her hand back to the bed and ignored the call. Ten minutes later she managed to focus on her alarm clock. Eleven am. She couldn’t remember EVER being in bed until that time. But then she couldn’t remember feeling as ill as she did.

She tried to remember her last movements, but other than Andy arriving, buying her a drink she couldn’t remember anything. Eventually she rolled onto her back and thought again, karaoke. She remembered singing ‘What’s up’ by the Four Non Blonds...badly. She laughed, but that caused a lancing pain to almost blind her.

                “Shit!” She tried to speak but her dry mouth only uttered a hoarse rasp.

Was this death? She wondered. But then each time she opened her eyes she was rewarded with a view of the crappy flat she rented and knew that this was purely a hangover...from hell.

This was why she never drank. As she lay there feeling like hell on earth, flickers of memories started to return. The karaoke, food and debating with the three amigos and she’d kept dubbing them, and then walking out of the hotel. She gulped at that memory. How to celebrate the end of a regular income was obviously spending more on alcohol in one day than you had in the previous six months.

Groaning she buried her head in the pillow, ignoring the phone that had started to ring again.

Dylan tossed his phone across the back of the car, if only she’d answer, if only Matilda would speak to him, then he could walk into the meeting with his head held high. He didn’t expect her to come running back, he knew she’d gone for good, but he wanted the chance to apologise. That was all.

He sighed as the Manhattan streets flew past his window, he’d felt like a bastard before he received the replying email from Martin back at the hotel. In it he highlighted in no uncertain terms how much money Matilda had saved the hotel by jumping 0quickly onto all of Paul’s drunken promises. He’d told him that every day there was a call or enquiry about something Paul had agreed to, and it was always ridiculously below rate, be it breakfast, a room or more worryingly a conference. None were registered, and so often most couldn’t be accommodated. Matilda had battled to get a policy in place whereby all would follow the same procedure. That had worked for everyone, bar himself.

Shit.

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He knew what he had to do. Once this meeting was over he had to return. Brandy would kill him, but he had to make this good, there was nothing else he could do.

                “What time is it?” Mattie called out from under her pillow to the persistent banging on her door.

                “Half past four!” Andy called out, “and I’ve brought you some hangover remedies.”

She sighed, “you’ve got a key.”

He laughed, still shouting from behind the closed door, “I’m not about to burst in, you might be stark naked, or ‘with someone’.”

She glanced under the duvet at her body at some point she’d pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. “You’re safe!”

Then the door opened.

The flat was barely that, it was a bedsit at best, a large room with a bed, sofa, small kitchenette and a separate bathroom. It was tiny, but it was cheap and suited her. Now as Andy stepped into the room she had nowhere to hide, so she groaned.

                “How bad was I?”

He dumped orange juice eggs and what looked like bacon on to her counter, “hilarious! Who knew you were SO much fun?”

Whilst she blushed at the memories, or lack of them she realised that the previous night was the first time she’d REALLY let go in her life. She’d been a shy teen, and taken that into University, then she’d met Dylan who overwhelmed her, she’d become a part of his life as he had hers, but looking back, maybe unkindly, she always had to be the sensible one, making the serious decisions. Then she’d been single, motherless and broke, and it hadn’t gotten any easier.

She realised Andy was talking and groaned, she really had been out of control the previous night, she’d never had a hangover like it.

As promised Andy delivered the perfect bacon and egg sandwich, coupled with orange juice laced with Alka-Seltzer, if that didn’t make her feel better, arguably nothing would. Though she didn’t hold out much hope.

                “Have a shower then we’re going in mine to watch the football with a hair of the dog. I got cans earlier.”

                “I’m never drinking again.”

He laughed, “famous last words, now do as I say. Football starts in an hour. Ok?”

The next day was Friday, a stupid day to go looking for a job, but she had to something, one day drinking, one day recovering, she was in danger of throwing her life away. So, she dressed in a compromise, linen trousers and a sleeveless blouse, not overly smart, but definitely not casual, then headed out to some of the temping agencies that she knew of. Early afternoon and she’d left her CV with half a dozen agencies, to mixed response, then meandered along Regent Street to her favourite sandwich shop.

When she’d met Dylan they’d lived together for the rest of their university days in a bedsit in Kilburn. It hadn’t been anything special, but probably better than she had now. They’d been happy thrust on top of each other in a single room with a bed, a sofa and the tiniest dining table; the kitchen had been an alcove and was barely big enough to swing a cat.

When they’d graduated and got jobs, well her anyway, they’d moved to Bayswater. It was a much better area, closer, and the flat they rented actually had a lunge AND a bedroom. They’d thought they were the bees’ knees; they even entertained friends in their new found wealth of space...though the two rooms combined weren’t as big as oe of the rooms in the hotel, but they’d been happy. And they were in spitting distance of Hyde Park.

She and Dylan would spend Sundays walking the pathways hand in hand, dodging runners and horse riders, and it was on one of those walks that they found a bench, secluded in a copse of trees, but overlooking one of the lakes. It became their favourite place; they took picnics there, sat and read the Sunday papers, and often sheltered from the rain and watched the sun set. As she walked, Mattie found herself strolling into Hyde Park...and towards the bench.

It was a warm day, and she settled on the bench, setting down her coffee and carrot cake, then opening her bacon and avocado sandwich sat back. It was ages since she’d done this, and even longer since she hadn’t felt physical pain coming there, to that bench.  After Dylan had left she’d go there periodically, mainly to cry, to let go of the distress that she hid so well the rest of the time. Smiling she watched two women with two young children who were insisting on walking whilst the mothers pushed their buggies, but in typical child fashion, the two ran off in completely opposite directions meaning that they were blighted by perpetual chaos.

Mattie smiled her maternal instinct was so alive; things could have been so different. Sighing she attacked the second sandwich and had to contemplate the fact that as the weekend approached she had nothing to do. No agenda, no plan, nothing.

Rather than filling her with excitement, it filled her with dread. Work was routine, purpose, structure, without it, she was kind of lost. Andy managed to live with erratic working hours, college, parties...but she wasn’t like that, had never been. Her mother always said she was born on time, the exact day, and before Coronation Street started.

The sandwich was good; it was ages since she’d cut loose and ages since she’d eaten food like this. If the sandwich was good, the cake was amazing. Moist, yet firm, topped with cream cheese frosting. The perfect thing to wash down with strong black coffee.

The sun came out, and whereas she might have gone home, or even passed via more agencies, she slipped her jacket off and stretched her arms along the back of the bench, turning her face up to the sun, eyes closed.

               

                “Matilda?” A voice cut through her peace dragging her back from her relaxing dreams with a thud.