Twisted Truth - Chapter One

PART ONE

Chapter One

London, September 2000

This is what happens when your best friend disappears, your mother is driving you loopy and work is taking over your life. You go out with a group of crazy friends, drink far too much, especially when it's only mid-week, and wake-up to find you aren't in your own bed and all you're wearing is yesterday's make-up and some hairy arm. Trying to peel the offending arm off my stomach and roll out off the bed undetected, I cursed Katie for lining up all those shots and myself for not making a 3 am flit. Picking up my clothes I tip-toed from the room, steadied myself against a sofa and dressed. I couldn't make a walk-of-shame into work wearing the same clothes as yesterday so I'd have to make a dash home and change first. Whichever battle I went for, over-stuffed Tube or taxi stuck in rush-hour traffic, I was going to be late and that was the last thing I needed.

I confronted the multi-coloured files piled on the floor, some bound with layers of elastic bands to keep their contents contained, all looking as precarious as the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Groaning as I did so, I downed another two paracetamol, and faced the task in front of me. It was time to enlist some help. Lifting several files, I carried them into the main room of the litigation department, where identical desks filled the centre of the room, divided into cubicles with low partitions. Each contained a paralegal, secretary or office junior and the soft beat of fingers on keyboards and reassuring calls being made to clients, could be heard all around me. Then one voice sounded above the others, sterner, negotiating with an opposing firm. Catching the eye of the negotiator, I made a silent check that she was okay and, on receiving a thumbs up and an assured nod, I continued with my task.

'Got a few jobs for you this morning,' I said, dumping the files on the desk of Carl, my trainee solicitor. 'The trial's looming on this TMC case and we're far from ready. I want you to go through these documents that Alex faxed over from Malaysia, highlight every mention of the product specification, then do the same with this list TMC (UK) gave us. Once you've done that ring our barrister and let him know if there are any conflicts in the spec.'

'Can I do it this afternoon?' he asked. 'I've already been asked to check a disclosure list on another case.'

'Absolutely not,' I said, leafing through the pages of the file.

'But, I was told this other list is urgent.'

'I don't care. You're my trainee and TMC takes precedence over everything. Don't forget that.'

Carl opened his mouth and for one moment I thought he was going to implore me again, but then he closed it and turned his attention to the pages in front of him.

As I explained the rest of the task, giving him time to take notes, one of the paralegals, sitting by my office door, interrupted me.

'Charlotte, your phone's ringing.'

Leaving Carl, I rushed to answer the call.

'Good morning, Brightman Russell, Charlotte Gordon.'

‘Zara Lawrence for you,’ the receptionist said.

‘Thank God. Put her through.’

‘Where the hell have you been?' I said, reaching across and slamming the office door, 'I've been calling you for over a week.’

‘I can't wait to fill you in on all the details,’ she began.

'You can start by explaining where you've been,' I interrupted, 'do you have any idea how much grief I've had for the last week? Your mum has been hassling mine, who's been driving me mad every day asking if I've heard from you. If I hadn't checked with your office and found out you'd told them you were going on holiday, Sally would have reported you as missing.'

'I know. When I got back and turned my phone on there were about a thousand messages from her.'

'So where have you been,' I asked again, 'and why didn't you answer your phone?'

‘I've been with Toby. Can you believe it? He took me to Mauritius for a week on a last minute holiday. I actually went on holiday in October, one of the busiest times of the year for any label. I must be mad.’

I sat back in my chair, trying to comprehend what she'd said.

‘Charlotte, are you still there?’

I broke out of my stunned silence and realised I was sitting with my mouth agape, ‘Yes, I'm here. You went to Mauritius with Toby, Toby Matthews?’

‘It was wonderful. Such a beautiful island, not that we saw that much of it.’

'That's so typical of you, make some rash decision without a second thought to anyone else. You need your head read.'

'That's not fair. I'm entitled to a life and I don't have to answer to you.'

'No you don't,' I said, pacing up and down the room, 'but a one-second phone call before you went would have been nice.'

'I don't need this. I've already had the lecture from mum.'

'Considering how much earache she's given me this week I hope she ate you,' I said, slipping into the Northern Irish accent in my annoyance.

'Please, can we not row? I've had the most amazing time but since I came home everyone's been yelling at me.'

'Look, I'm sorry,' I said closing my eyes briefly and rubbing my temple. 'I'm under a lot of pressure with this case and I could have done without our mothers stressing out. Besides, you kind of deserve it for just disappearing, especially as you went with someone you've only known for two weeks.’

'Who knew throwing you a birthday party would give me such a great present?' She said, daring to giggle.

'You don't know him. How could you go on holiday with a stranger?'

‘You trust him. You've worked together for so long and you're the one who told me he's a nice bloke. I'm completely head over heels about him, love at first sight.’

‘Zara, you don't seriously believe that. It's just a rush of hormones and we both know the trouble they can get us into.’

‘Do you have any romance in you?’ she said, making it easy to picture the pout she would be pulling at me.

‘No, and I thought you had more sense,’ I said, perturbed at the level of glee in Zara's voice. It was always my job to be the rational one, to pick up the pieces after she rushed into the world's greatest love affair.

‘Stop being such a grump. I thought at least you'd be pleased for me?’

‘I just don't want you to rush headlong into this and end up regretting it.’

‘Please trust me, I know what I'm doing,' she said, the plea in her voice obvious.

'I'm not convinced you do.' I said.

‘We're hoping you would come over to my flat tonight and have dinner with us?’ She said, ignoring my last remark.

Oh great, a cosy dinner party with a loved-up couple, plus one, just what I needed. Could I get out of it?

‘Dinner.' I said. 'You mean you're actually going to cook?’

‘I can cook when I want to, I've just never wanted to very often.’

‘Are you going all domestic goddess on me now?' I asked, sighing as I collapsed into my ergonomic chair.

‘Come over tonight, please? I really want you to spend time with us and see what Toby means to me.’

‘Okay, if you insist but I'm warning you if the food is burnt I won't pretend that it's mouthwatering.’

‘My place at half eight sharp then.’ She hung up before I could protest or tease her about her horrendous cooking any further.

Having stayed in the office until seven o'clock I was in a rush to get from Holborn to my flat in Marylebone so that I could change out of my stifling, tailored work suit into something more comfortable. A confrontation with another solicitor in the department, who'd been the one responsible for trying to poach Carl's time, left me needing to wind down. Searching my wardrobe I found my favourite jeans, a casual top and threw them on the bed, collapsing alongside them. Come on Charlotte, I thought trying to motivate myself to move. Forgetting my earlier grouchy behaviour towards Zara, I put a smile on my face, dressed and headed for my small kitchen and its well stocked wine rack.

The tube ride from Marylebone to Farringdon was a short one. It was too early for the Friday night revellers and late enough to have given the rush of commuters time to escape the city for the weekend, so the stations and train were quiet. No rush for the carriage the second the doors swooshed open, no nose shoved into the armpit of the next person, even empty seats, but still the requirement to look downwards for the fear of catching the eyes of the person sitting opposite me, whilst clutching my wine bottle. By the time I made the short walk to Zara's Clerkenwell flat I was a few minutes late. After leaning on the buzzer and getting no reply I tried Zara's mobile number, it rang and rang. I was giving up on her, and my smile fading, when an answer finally came over the intercom. I was surprised to hear Toby's voice. It made him seem very at home in her flat.

‘Come on up, Charlotte, Zara's just doing her hair, again.’ Toby laughed in a way that hinted at a private joke.

When Zara opened the front door, she was adjusting her clothes, making it obvious what the private joke had been. Clearly it was a good job I hadn't arrived on time.

‘Getting a bit hot in the kitchen was it?’

‘Perhaps a bit hot and steamy. That's why I've had to chain Toby to the hob and let him make dinner tonight.’

‘See, I'm bewitched and enslaved already,’ Toby shouted from the kitchen.

I handed Zara a bottle of wine and followed her, noticing how she slipped her arm around Toby's waist, when she reached across him to place the bottle on the kitchen counter.

'So, Mauritius?' I asked them.

'It was amazing,' Zara said, 'so green, gorgeous, quiet beaches, everyone was so friendly, although football mad, they even have a town called Arsenal.'

'Shame about their choice of teams,' Toby grumbled.

'It's given me so much inspiration for a new line,' she continued with enthusiasm, 'come and see the drawings I've been working on.'

Zara took me to her study, where the walls, floor and desk were littered with sketches of clothes, coloured in a variety of rich, vibrant colours.

'I'm picturing them teamed with denims and whites for the summer.'

'But I thought you'd just shown your summer range at the fashion shows.'

'I did, but Frivolous have been asked to do a range for the High Street, aimed at the teenagers and twenty something market. I think these would be perfect.'

'They look amazing, as always.'

She started shuffling through drawings and a silence hung between us.

'Listen, about this morning...' I began.

'It's okay, I understand why everyone is upset with me. It was stupid not to let someone know where I was going.'

'Has Sally calmed down yet?'

'You know mum, always a crisis to get hysterical over. She's busy stressing about Toby now.'

'Who's stressing about me?' Toby asked, appearing in the doorway.

'I told you mum's been quizzing me about you. She threatening ringing you now,' she said, looking in my direction.

'Me? What have I got to do with it?'

'I told her you were trainee solicitors together and stayed at the same firm, she thinks you'll be able to reassure her I've not gone crazy.'

'Sounds like I've got some bribing to do,' Toby said, smiling and ushering us to the table with outstretched arms, 'dinner is served.'

'So how long have you known each other?' Toby asked, as we sat round the table.

'Too long,' we both replied, smiling at the well worn response.

'I lived a quiet life with my mum and dad, happily ignorant of the madness in this world, up until the age of four,' I said, looking at Toby and not daring to let my eyes dart to Zara, one look would have spoilt my calm exterior, 'then this rowdy family moved in next door, and my innocent life was changed forever.'

'You mean, thank God Zara moved in next door and brought some excitement into my life,' she said.

'Excitement? Mayhem and trouble, more like.'

'Do you remember that time I used mum's mascara on your Sindy doll?' Zara asked.

'Do I ever, she was my favourite and you gave her a mask of scratchy black lines. Reminded me of a spider every time I looked at her.'

'And you just love those eight-legged horrors,' she said wiggling her fingers upside down in my face.

'So, Toby said, 'you'll be able to fill me in on all of her deep, dark secrets.'

Before I could answer, Zara replied.

'Not a chance.' Throwing me a warning look she continued, 'I know all the skeletons in her past, she can't reveal mine without risking her own re-appearing.'

'So, there are some then?' Toby asked.

'No way,' I said, 'we've been single in London for over ten years, we're as white and pure as fresh snow.'

'Okay, I get the hint, don't start a conversation that could lead to stories about ex-boyfriends.'

'I've nothing to hide from you,' Zara said, smiling at Toby, 'and Charlotte doesn't do boyfriends so there are no exe's, well apart from one,' she said looking in my direction again.

'Who's the mystery ex then?' Toby asked.

'Mark...'

'We are not having that conversation,' I said, stopping Zara.

'I thought the whole no relationships thing was for the benefit of the office, no mixing work and pleasure.' Toby said.

'Does that mean the rumours are true?' I asked.

'What rumours?' Toby asked, unable to meet my stare.

'They were taking bets on whether I was a lesbian, because I go to the office parties alone and won't go out with anyone at work.'

'You heard about that?'

I nodded.

'I stopped it when I found out,' he said. 'Told them they didn't know anything about you.'

'So now they call me The Ice Queen. So original.'

'Are you serious?' Zara asked.

I raised an eyebrow at her but Toby explained for me. 'Everyone in work knows how driven you are and I'm the only one left who trained with you, who remembers the girl who likes a drink, a party and can smile at people other than clients and senior partners.'

'Do me a favour and keep those memories to yourself in the office,' I said.

'Right, goodbye Ice Queen Charlotte,' Zara interrupted, a well-aimed tap to the shin emphasising her point. 'I'd like you to stop scaring my boyfriend and allow nice, happy, friendly Charlotte back in the room please.'

'No more work talk,' I said lifting my glass and chinking it against Toby's. 'Let's just enjoy the rest of the evening.'

Having filled ourselves with good food and rich wine, I stood to help clear the table .

'We'll do that,' Zara insisted, putting her hands on my hips and propelling me towards an armchair. Toby set my wine glass on a table beside me and returned to help Zara. Having seen their ease with each other throughout the evening, little gestures, such as the way he would brush the hair from her face, and watching as she now playfully tickled his sides as he carried the dishes to the kitchen, it was difficult to deny their happiness.

Toby returned from the kitchen with another bottle of wine, and was about to refill my glass.

'No more wine,' I groaned placing a hand over the top of it,' I've got to go home, too much to do in the morning to have another stinking hangover.'

'Another?' Zara asked.

'Don't ask.' I replied, not wanting to start a conversation that would reveal my whereabouts last night, or this morning.

'Just one more?' Toby asked, the bottle hovering over my hand and the covered glass.

'Much as I'd like to, no.'

I drank the last mouthful of wine and stood up, reaching for my coat and bag.

'But, before I go I want a word with you,' I said turning to Zara.

'Why? What have I done now?'

'Girl talk time,' I said.

'That's got to be my cue to get out of here,' Toby said, before hugging me and running for the safety of the kitchen.

I headed for the door with Zara following me.

‘Okay, this is me climbing off my high horse and admitting it. You look happy,’ I said.

‘Do I see a chink in that cynical armour?'

'Not a chance. I still think love is all hormones and fairy-tales.'

'One day it will catch you again and then you'll understand.'

'Better keep-up the training then, so I can outrun it.'

'Well I'm going to lie here and soak it up,' she said.

'I know this is new and exciting but please don't start dreaming of weddings and castles. I don't want to see either of you nursing a broken heart.'

'I'll try,' Zara said, 'but it's easy to daydream, he's so important to me already and it feels right.'

'I knew it was a bad idea when you read that Bridget Jones book,' I replied. 'Listening to that heart of yours gets you into trouble too often.'

She wrapped her arms around me and I returned the familiar gesture. Before wishing each other goodbye, she whispered, 'I wish you could remember how to listen to yours.'