She made lists of what had to be done; contact the agency that handled the Bondi apartment and give notice of moving, telephone and electricity bills to be finalised, look up removalists and get estimates, collect boxes for packing. She was mentally arranging her furniture in the new Balmoral apartment when the telephone rang, jolting her back to the present.
Amy felt reluctant to answer the call. It might be for Steve, someone who didn’t know he was gone, and she would have to explain. Shock and sympathy would follow and she’d be forcefully reminded of her grief and humiliation. She glared at the telephone, hating its insistent burring, wanting to be left alone to pick up her new life.
The summons finally stopped. Amy sighed in relief. Maybe it was cowardly not to face up to the truth, but it was such a hurtful truth she just wanted to push it aside. To her increasing chagrin, however, she was not left in peace. The telephone rang on and off for the next hour, demanding an answer. She balefully considered taking the receiver off the hook, then realised that could instigate an inquiry from the telephone company since the caller was being so persistent.
In the end, the need to cut off the torment drove her to snatch up the receiver. “Amy Taylor,” she snapped into it.
“Thank heaven! I was getting really worried about you, Amy. It’s Brooke Mitchell here.”
Brooke! Amy instantly grimaced. Her least favourite person amongst her acquaintances.
“When Ryan came home from work and told me what Steve had done, I just couldn’t believe it at first,” she blathered on. “Then I thought of you and how you must be feeling, you poor dear...”
“I’m fine,” Amy interrupted, recoiling from the spurious gush of sympathy.
Gush of curiosity more like! Brooke Mitchell lived for gossip, revelled in it, and Amy had never really enjoyed her company. Brooke just happened to be married to Ryan who worked with Steve and the two men were both computer heads, moving their common interest into socialising occasionally.
“Are you sure? When you weren’t answering the phone...”
“I’ve only just come in,” Amy lied.
“Oh! I had visions of you...well, I’m relieved you haven’t...uh...”
“Slit my wrists? I assure you I’m not the least bit suicidal, Brooke. No drama at all.” For you to feed off, Amy silently added.
“I didn’t mean...it’s just such devastating news. And I can’t say how sorry I am. I don’t know how Steve could have done it to you. Infidelity is bad enough but getting the woman pregnant and deciding to marry her...after all the years you’ve been together...”
Amy gritted her teeth. Brooke was rubbing salt into the wound.
“...It’s just terrible,” she went on. “Though I’ve never thought living together was a good idea. You should have nailed him down, Amy. It’s the only way to be sure of them.”
It was the smug voice of a married woman. Amy refrained from saying divorce statistics didn’t exactly prove Brooke right. It would have sounded like sour grapes.
“If you need a shoulder to cry on...”
The memory of Jake holding her brought a sudden rush of warmth, taking the nasty chill off this conversation. “I’m really fine, Brooke. In fact, I’ve had a lovely day. Jake Carter, my boss, took me out to lunch to celebrate my new freedom.”
Which was almost true.
“You told him about Steve?” Real shock in her tone this time.
Caught up on a wave of bravado, Amy ploughed on in the same vein. “Yes, I did. And Jake convinced me I was well rid of him, so don’t be concerned about me, Brooke.”
“I see.” Doubt mixed with vexation at this turn of events. “Didn’t you tell me your boss was a rake?”
“Mmh. Though I’m thinking it might well be a worthwhile experience being raked over by Jake Carter.”
“Amy! Really!”
“Yes. Really,” she echoed, determined on wiping out any image of her being thrown on the scrap heap, too crushed to raise any interest in another man.
“Well...” Brooke was clearly nonplussed. “I was feeling so awkward about bringing up next Saturday’s party. I mean, when I invited you and Steve, I expected you to be together. Now...well, it is awkward, Amy. Ryan says Steve will want to bring...”
“Yes, of course,” Amy rushed in, her heart contracting at the thought of the pregnant blonde on Steve’s arm, queening it in Amy’s place. And the plain truth was, Steve was far more Ryan’s friend than she was Brooke’s.
“But if you want to bring Jake Carter...” Her voice brimmed over with salacious interest.
“I was about to say I have other plans. Brooke. It was kind of you to be concerned about me and I’m glad you called. I’d forgotten about the party. Please accept my apologies. And I do wish you and Ryan a very merry Christmas.”
She put the receiver down before Brooke could ask about her plans, which were none of the other woman’s business. It gave Amy some satisfaction to think of Brooke speculating wildly about Jake, instead of pitying her, but it had probably been a rash impulse to use him to save her pride. The word would be quickly spread...
So what? Amy thought miserably. It would probably salve everybody’s unease about excluding her from future activities. Brooke had been angling to cancel the party invitation and she wouldn’t be the only one to dump Steve’s ex-partner in favour of his wife-to-be.
When couples broke up, it forced others to make choices and the pragmatic choice was to accept a couple rather than a suddenly single woman who could either be a wet blanket at a social gathering or a threat to other women’s peace of mind.
Depression came rolling in as she realised she was now a social pariah and she didn’t really have friends of her own. The five years of sharing her life with Steve had whittled them away, and the past two years as Jake’s personal assistant had kept her so busy, she literally hadn’t had the time to develop and nurture real friendships. In fact, she felt closer to her boss than she did to anyone else at the present moment, and that brought home what a sorry state she was in.
Jake had filled the emptiness today but she knew how foolish it would be to let herself become dependent on him to fill her future. She had to take control of her own life, find new avenues of meeting people. The need-to-do list she’d made seemed to mock her. It would get her through the next week, but what then?
Amy couldn’t find the energy to think further. She went to bed and courted oblivion. Being without Steve had to get easier, she reasoned. Everyone said time was a great healer. Soon she’d be able to go to bed and not think of him cuddled up to his blonde. In sheer defence against that emotional torment, she started visualising what it might be like to be cuddled up with Jake Carter. It was a dangerous fantasy but she didn’t care. It helped.