Flame

  FLAME

  by

  Toya Richardson

  Copyright 2015 Toya Richardson

  Little Bird Publishing House

  London

  No part of this book may be uploaded or reproduced without the author’s express permission. Worldwide rights are held.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my mum, Anne Colleer Tebby, who passed away in March 2009. She read Flame when I first wrote it fifteen years ago. It was always her dream to see it published. I just wish she could see how far I’ve come since then.

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to say a huge thank you to everyone at Little Bird Publishing House for all their support. They have made publishing Flame such a pleasurable and easy process.

  Also a huge thank you to Sarah Coe and Kay Carrick for all their help with my research, I couldn’t have done it without you, ladies.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The cold night air hit her as she entered the underground car park; she shivered and pulled her coat tightly around her. The clicking noise of her heels on concrete reverberated off the walls, followed by another sound – more footsteps. She stopped to listen. There was silence. Maybe she was imagining things; surviving on a diet of black coffee and hardly any sleep, it was little wonder.

  Amberley looked at her watch. It was two a.m. Yesterday, she had been at work until midnight. Her days were getting longer. She quickened her pace until she reached the relative safety of her car, still unable to shake off the uneasy feeling that someone was following her. Just as she put her hand out to open the door, someone pulled her arm from behind. She spun around, swinging her briefcase at her assailant. It was Steve. He was too strong and he ripped the case from her arm, tugging her hand painfully as he did so. Instead of being afraid, she was furious.

  ‘What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to come anywhere near me. Didn’t you get the letter from my solicitor?’ she asked him angrily.

  He let go of her arm and she saw the look of hostility in his eyes quickly replaced by one of sincerity.

  ‘I’m sorry, Amberley, but you left me with no other choice. I can’t come within half a mile of you. I can’t phone you, can’t even send e-mails or letters. You didn’t have to go to those lengths you know? A court order! For God’s sake! We can sort this problem out, just the two of us.’

  His tone was wheedling, almost begging. He looked pleadingly at her with his big brown eyes. She bit her lip and for a moment and she almost relented. He gave her the ‘little boy lost’ smile that had been her downfall too many times before.

  ‘You could get into big trouble for this. Please leave; this isn’t helping either of us.’

  ‘You can say what you want, Amberley, but you belong to me.’

  ‘It’s over! I can’t deal with anymore of your jealous rages. I’m sorry it’s ended this way. There isn’t anything left to say.’ She noted the hostility returning to his eyes. As he looked at her that way, she realised that she could never return to him.

  ‘One way or another I’ll get you back,’ he shouted out to her as he walked away.

  Amberley bent down, picked up her brief case, and watched him disappear from sight. Once she was certain he’d gone she breathed deeply, then she felt the dizzy spells wash over her. She held on to the side of her car until they subsided. These episodes were becoming more frequent. A culmination of Steve and the pressure she was under at work were getting to her. Taking another quick look around her, she got inside her car and made sure all the doors were locked.

  Slowly, she pulled out of the underground car park and headed for her home. The amount of traffic on the road was minimal at that time in the morning. It was then she became aware of a set of headlights behind her that appeared to be following her. Deciding to take an alternative route to her flat in Fulham, she quickly turned a corner. The car was still behind her, the hairs at the nape of her neck stood up on end. She feared it was Steve. His headlights were on full beam. She squinted and blinked, the bright lights making it difficult for her to see.

  She changed direction and headed away from her flat and towards her brother’s place in Chelsea. The car following her came close up, the engine revved, then accelerated. He drew level with her face and as it passed, she saw it wasn’t him. She breathed in deeply once more realising she had been mistaken.

  Before going to bed, she ensured that all of her windows and doors were completely secure – checking every lock twice. Looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she was horrified by how tired and drawn she looked. There were dark circles under her eyes and looked dull and lifeless; she couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled. Even the small freckles, which always gave her a healthy glow, appeared faded and her lustrous, long auburn hair appeared to have lost its silkiness. Her expensive designer navy suit seemed jaded and her new, expensive shoes hurt like crazy. She shook her head sadly at the reflection staring back and wondered if it was all worth it.

  Grabbing a cup of coffee, she went from room to room and looked at the expensive trappings. Everything was top of the range – trendy and minimalist. Most people would die for everything she had. She flopped lifelessly down on her sofa, clutching at the mug in her hands. Closing her eyes, she wondered if she would be happier living in a two up two down with a poor man who loved her, rather than some wacko rich kid who wanted to own and beat her.

  Absently touching the silver pixie hanging from her neck, the only non-designer object she owned, happier times came to mind – when life was simple and she had been surrounded by love and affection. Stretching the tension from her limbs, she climbed into bed. She decided after the presentation to Hawsons was over, she would take off for a well-earned rest, somewhere Steve would never find her.

  ***

  A few hours later crawling from her bed, she felt as though she’d had hardly any sleep. Her head was pounding and there were pains in her chest. After a shower and yet another large cup of strong, black coffee, she left for work. By the time she arrived at her office her head was throbbing. Her spirits rose as she stepped out of the lift, the office was a hive of activity. The bright, busy reception area and workers going about their business gave her a buzz that no amount of caffeine ever could.

  ‘Morning, Vanessa, any calls for me?’ Amberley asked her PA.

  ‘Hi, Amberley, only one from Hawsons and you’re not going to like it. They want the presentation brought forward to tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re joking! It’s not supposed to be until next Thursday. Is Simon in yet?’ Amberley looked at her in disbelief.

  Vanessa shook her head. ‘No, but I did leave a message on his mobile and landline to advise him of the situation.’

  Sitting down at her desk, Amberley breathed deeply as the palpitations started in her chest again. She prayed she didn’t have another blackout because her workload was far too great for her to become ill. They couldn’t afford to lose this contract with Hawsons, who were one of the most prestigious property developers in Europe. The deal would net them an extra million in revenue – at least that was if they were successful.

  At that moment, Simon hurried in to her office. His face was pale and drawn with tiredness. He appeared extremely anxious. He looked very much like their father, tall and lean with sandy coloured hair, which he always kept short but spiky on top. They shared the same grey blue eye colouring. He had freckles but they only appeared when he had been in the sun. He smiled much more than she did and this showed on his face. She felt a pang of jealousy as she recalled the way he smiled at Sarah, his wife, every time he saw her. If only she had more luck in the relationship stakes.

  ‘You look exhausted, Amberley.’

  ‘I know and so do you.’ She gave him a wan smile.

  She watch
ed as people picked up phones and discussed ideas with clients. The designers were going over ideas on a storyboard for the latest breakfast cereal. She could almost reach out and the touch the energy emanating from their employees.

  ‘You do realise that there’s a possibility the company could go under if we don’t clinch this deal don’t you? We’ve invested so much of our time and money in the presentation for this project,’ her brother said in a low voice.

  Amberley looked at the concern on his face. Her attention turned back to their employees, unaware that their future was hanging in the balance. She knew they couldn’t let this happen, these people had given them total dedication.

  ‘This Hawson contract is a killer but we can’t give up now. Mum and Dad wouldn’t have.’

  They fell silent, both thinking of their parents. Their mother had died in a car crash five years earlier, and their father had died a few months after, never recovering from a coma. Simon raked his hand through his hair and headed for the door.

  ‘I don’t know how to tell Sarah I won’t be home until late – again. She’s beginning to wonder if she actually has a husband.’

  Amberley leaned back in her chair. At least Simon had a loving partner at home. Before she started to feel sorry for herself, she stretched her shoulders and got down to business.

  ‘I think Hawsons are trying to see how far they can push us. How are things your side of the presentation?’ she asked, following him out of her office.

  ‘Everything will be in place on time if we work through the night. What about you?’

  Amberley rolled her eyes skyward. ‘Everyone should be up to speed. The main problem is with the photographers; Ian is on holiday until Friday and all our other regular freelancers are busy. We’ll have to go for one we haven’t used before and pray that they come up with the goods.’

  She noticed Simon watching her. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ His tone was anxious.

  She looked at her brother; at thirty-four; he was three years older than she was. Since the death of their parents, he had become very protective of her. She decided not to tell him about her meeting with Steve that morning and she placed what she hoped was an encouraging smile on her face.

  ‘When this presentation is over I promise I’ll take it easy, okay?’

  Simon kissed the top of her head. ‘I’ll hold you to that. Now I guess we’d better get down to business because it’s going to be an extremely long day.’

  She searched her database of photographic contractors and finally found one that fit the bill. Next, she concentrated on the graphs to go with her PowerPoint presentation. By two in the afternoon, she needed a quick blast of fresh air. It was the responsibility of the creative director to take charge and pull the whole presentation together. It was a monumental task; creative directors were normally well into their thirties with far more experience. Everyone else within the company was already shouldering big responsibilities, which left her with no choice other than to take on the role – their creative director was abroad on a climbing holiday.

  Going to her favourite coffee shop, she ordered a large, skinny mocha. On her way back she spotted Steve across the road. At the same time she saw him, his eyes connected with hers and he started to cross. Amberley stepped up her pace, wanting to get away from him but he caught up with her and took hold of her arm.

  ‘Amberley, we need to talk.’

  She shrugged out of his grasp. ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’

  ‘I need to explain things to you, to make you understand I only do the things I do because I love you.’

  ‘We’ve been over this a thousand times, Steve, and the facts still remain the same. I’m sorry but I don’t love you anymore.’ She paused for a moment hoping that her words were getting through to him and added, ‘We both need to move on, surely you can see that. If I wasn’t up to my eyes with an important contract at this moment, I would call the police and have you arrested now. Nothing you can say or do will ever change my mind.’

  ‘Please just hear me out I…’

  She turned to face him and said through gritted teeth, ‘Steve, please leave me alone. I really don’t need this right now.’

  Before he could respond, she turned away from him. Her left arm felt like lead and a wave of nausea swept over her.

  Sitting down at her desk, she sipped at her drink. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes. After a few minutes the pain went away.

  ‘Hey you haven’t got time for a nap; we’ve got work to do.’

  Her eyes opened at the sound of Simon’s voice. The look on her brother’s face said it all; he was anxious and so was she. They watched each other silently.

  She responded to his unanswered question, ‘It’s only tiredness, please don’t worry. I think we’ve both been under a lot of pressure lately.’

  ‘You’re right there,’ he said, nodding in agreement.

  He watched his sister thoughtfully for a while. ‘Look, why don’t you go to the cottage for a while after the presentation. You need to do more than just, ‘take it easy’ you know.’

  Putting her pen down, she allowed her mind to wander back to the happy times spent in Cornwall with her family. ‘I don’t know, Simon, there’s too much to do here. Now is really not a good time.’

  He threw his hands up in the air with frustration. ‘Amberley, you always have an excuse. When was the last time you had a holiday?’

  She tried to remember and couldn’t, she drew in her bottom lip. ‘Okay, I know it’s been a while but…’

  ‘It’s been more than a while. Please, for me, at least consider going away.’

  She knew that Simon and Sarah still went there from time to time. She wondered if it still looked the same. They rented their property out to holidaymakers occasionally so that it wasn’t empty all the time. “Happily Ever After” had never been the sort of place to be left standing alone and silent. She thought back to how magical it used to be. Absently, she rubbed the silver, Cornish Pixie that hung from her neck and smiled.

  ‘Are you listening to me, Amberley?’ She heard Simon say.

  Shaking her head, she looked up at him. ‘Sorry, talking about the cottage reminded me of all the fun things we used to do there. Guess my mind was wandering a little. Anyway, we have a presentation to sort out so we need to crack on.’

  Simon laughed loudly. Amberley looked at him questioningly. ‘What?’

  ‘I was thinking how much like Mum you sounded. That was one of her favourite expressions when she was about to close a deal.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope I have half her talent for creativity then.’

  ****

  By the time all the presentation was finalised, it was four o’clock the following morning. Amberley felt like her head was going to explode. It was comforting for her to note that hers was not the only car in the car park this time. She hesitated, waiting for anything to indicate that Steve may be hiding in the shadows.

  By the time she reached home adrenalin was pumping so fast through her veins that she knew it would be pointless even to attempt sleeping. The meeting with Hawsons was taking place at nine that morning. She decided to take a long, hot shower then head back to the office to put the final additions to the presentation.

  ***

  John Hawson, the CEO of Hawsons, was a hard-nosed executive. As he swept into the conference room with his entourage, Amberley knew she would be the one in for a rough ride. Hawson made no secret of the fact that he disliked women in business. He was old school when it came to that, even though he had several women in high positions within his own company. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before he uttered a word.

  ‘I would like to know how someone as young as you feels they have the experience to be a creative director. It is a highly specialised field and takes years of knowledge to reach any reasonable level of competency. Especially when dealing with large client groups. Care to enlighten me, Miss Masterson?’

  Amberley eyed him cautiously. He
was an imposing figure, well over six foot tall, large frame, clean-shaven and had a nose that reminded her of an eagle’s beak. His eyes were a piercing blue and never missed a trick. She straightened her shoulders before responding.

  ‘Mr Hawson, I appreciate your concern but I have worked for several years within this business, and spent time with staff in all aspects of advertising and marketing. I have gained a vast working knowledge within all these areas, particularly when working alongside the creative director. If you care to study the portfolio before you, you will see testaments given by companies we have worked with. You will also find letters of commendation, in particular where I took on the role as creative director in his absence.’ She paused for a moment to let Mr Hawson take in her words. He continued to stare at her as if waiting for a further response.

  Taking in a deep breath, she continued, ‘I can assure you that I have staff working for me who I trust implicitly. With their help and support, my brother and I can provide solutions to all your requirements. If you would allow the presentation to start, I am sure we can allay any fears that you may have.’

  He clapped his hands in slow time. From the corner of her eye, she saw Simon watching her, praying she didn’t decide to retaliate. The rest of the people in the room were silent. The tension became unbearable.

  ‘That was a very pretty speech, Miss Masterson, but seeing is believing. It will take more than a few well rehearsed lines, and a slick PowerPoint show to convince me otherwise,’ he said, eyeing her with scepticism.

  Amberley flushed. ‘Mr Hawson, I won’t deny that our company would dearly love your business. Your corporation is one of the most prestigious in Europe and it would be great to have your firm within our company portfolio.’

  She saw his surprise when she walked towards to him, leaned over the table and added in a calm, level, voice, ‘but I will not be spoken to in such a manner. The people within Mastersons have worked their backsides off round the clock because you decided – on a whim – to push the meeting forward. Now, you can listen to our presentation and then go away to make your decision. Alternatively, you may leave now and let us work for companies that really do value our services,’ she paused. ‘However, if you decide after the presentation that we are not good enough, then I’ll accept your criticisms.’