A/N: I just wanted you to know that now I'm also publishing this story on wattpad! I was already doing so with its original version in spanish, but now you can find it in english, too :)
It's funnier there. I can post gifs and songs, so if you want to read my story on wattpad you can find it with the same name "Born to Lose" (my username is the same as here, too).
XI
A COFFEE TO FORGET
May 4, 1931
Yesterday, I was writing in this same diary when, inadvertently, I hit the coffee cup and it spilled on the notebook. I had to tear out what I had written, since everything that I had documented up to that moment was diluted and disappeared, as if it had never existed.
I wish I could say the same about the situation that led me to write in such a pitiful state, unable to control the movements of my hand which caused the disaster.
The coffee was hot and I burned three fingers. When I ran to the bathroom to place the affected skin under the stream of cold water, I found Ada in the bathtub, who asked me what the hell had happened to me. I broke down in tears, in a cry so rough that it did not take long to turn into a nervous breakdown and my friend called a doctor.
They gave me a few drops of laudanum and lying on my bed, half asleep, I was able to relate what had happened.
Today, one day after such an event, I have decided that I will not get rid of this notebook even if its sheets are ruined. I have resolved to capture in them everything they are capable of until I can start another notebook, because I want them to be testimony to what happened.
It was raining heavily when I woke up yesterday morning. Knowing that the tram would drop me off a couple of blocks from the Shelby Company Limited offices, I dressed in clothes that I wouldn't mind ruining with mud and whose fabrics were thin enough to dry easily. I had the usual breakfast: a cup of sweet tea and toast with blueberry jam.
As I waited for my tea to be at a safe drinking temperature, Ada reminded me, just as she had done a couple of days earlier, that she had some business to take care of before going to work, so I would have to go to the Company on my own. I didn't mind: as I said above, I had already assimilated the fact of travelling by tram.
I waited at the stop longer than usual and there I knew the tram was running late. Under my umbrella, I felt icy water droplets wet my bare calves and the skirt of my dress. I knew I would be late and I became anxious.
When I saw the tram approaching, I noticed that it was full of people and I took a deep breath of air for courage. It was disgusting to travel in a crowded means of transport on a rainy day. I hadn't gotten on yet when I could smell the earthy scent of mud and the acrid stench of sweat.
Upon reaching my destination, I ran through the streets of Small Heath dodging puddles as my heels would allow and, when I arrived at the company, climbed the stairs without even stopping to take a breath. I finally glimpsed the closed double doors of Thomas's office and I opened them wide.
"Mr. Shelby, I'm very sorry I'm late ..."
I interrupted myself when I noticed that Thomas was not alone. At my boldness, the man who was sitting in front of the desk turned to look at me and did so, first with some indignation, then with a nasty smile. A neat mustache framed his upper lip.
Thomas, for his part, looked at me seriously. He had not been amused by my behavior.
"I'm sorry," I apologized as the sudden stutter allowed me and proceeded to withdraw.
"Oh wait," the man with the mustache stopped me in a soft voice and I, for some reason, I listened to him. "What's your name?"
I turned my eyes to Thomas once more and witnessed him look at this guy with an abhorrence that I am unable to describe. The other man, however, kept his back to him, waiting for my answer as if Thomas had ceased to exist.
"Olivia, sir," I introduced myself, completely seized with discomfort.
"What a lovely name!" He exclaimed, and for me it was quite an exaggeration. "What are you doing here, Olivia?" he asked with sincere curiosity.
"She's my secretary," Thomas answered for me. His tone of voice was much deeper than normal and denoted hatred. He rushed to speak before the other could say anything. "You can go, Olivia".
"Mr. Shelby, all of a sudden I feel like having some tea." Although Thomas had managed to stop that guy from talking to me again, he had used a rather clever, and rather daring, resource to create situations in which he could interact with me .
There was something about the man's manner that gave me a strange and alarming sense of dread. I suppose it is the instinct that all of us who belong to the animal kingdom possess and that scientists tend to link with survival. I sniffed the danger as soon as he laid eyes on me and his corners lifted at the mere glance of my figure.
The fact that Thomas was so defensive when he was usually always relaxed was also very striking to me. The unconscious gesture of almost pouncing over the desk when the man asked for tea, as if he were a lion defending his inviolable territory, made me realize that Thomas was trying to protect me from him.
The tension could be cut with a knife.
"Get Mr. Mosley some tea," Thomas ordered.
Mosley. When I heard his name I understood a million and a half things. Oswald Mosley: the quasi-mystical leader of fascists. I had never seen him but had heard of him. In London he was the figure who led a dangerous mass of hate-filled brains like puppets, and I assumed that in Birmingham, as in any other corner of the Kingdom, it would be the same. His popularity had skyrocketed since he was tried to be killed during a rally a couple of years ago.
"Do you want some tea too, Mr. Shelby?" I asked, before returning to the secretariat.
"Coffee for me," Thomas told me as he got hold of his cigarette case. "Strong".
As I turned around, I felt the gazes of both men on me. I couldn't tell for sure where Thomas' eyes were staring at, but as if I were suddenly a circus freak with one eye on the back of my neck, I knew Mosley was leering at my rear. I bristled, product of disgust, and when I closed the door that I should never have opened, I took a deep breath.
I made Mosley's tea in the best possible way, although I won't deny that I would have liked to spit it out, and I let Thomas's coffee sit long enough for it to acquire the color of tar.
I had to go back into that office no matter how much I would have liked to avoid it. As I did so, both men interrupted their conversation, which was in a worryingly low and threatening tone of voice. With my attention focused on the teapot, I placed the tray on the desk and did not look at either of them. Mosley was smoking a cigarette and I felt his intimidating presence over me, as well as his disgusting strong cologne, so sweet it cloyed me like a piece of licorice would. Thomas's cologne, however, was more subtle, woody, and of course I really liked it.
"Thank you" Thomas was urging me to get out of there as quickly as possible.
"Let me taste your tea, Olivia," said Mosley suddenly, and I had no choice but to meet his eyes. He was smiling at me again and in his expression I noticed a hint of mockery. He took the cup, and as he raised it to her lips, I glanced at Thomas out of the corner of my eye to found he was looking at me the same way; we were both expectant and did not know what that pathetic clown would come up with now.
"Ah!" Mosley exclaimed after tasting the drink. "The worst tea I have ever drunk in my life".
"I can make another one, if you want," I hurried to speak. Yes, the guy was a bastard, but it was still my boss' visit.
"No, my dear." Mosley waved his hand. "Although you make me two hundred teas from two hundred different kinds of leaves, it would still taste like shit. The problem is not the tea. The problem is how you make it."
"Anything else, Mr. Mosley?" I heard Thomas ask through clenched teeth.
"Certainly not. Nothing else". Mosley stood up and tossed the cup onto the desk with such contempt that half of its contents spilled onto the tray. Then he tossed the cigarette butt into the teapot. "I can't say it's been a pleasure to discuss politics with you because, to be honest, it never is". He smiled once more. "Just as I have not enjoyed his secretary's horrible tea, although I have enjoyed her beautiful ass".
He released that contempt with such staunch naturalness that I couldn't help but be surprised. Thomas, however, stood up and while he wasn't going to hit him, the defiant attitude seemed to me as if he was figuratively punching him. Mosley left without saying goodbye, walking straight, his chest swollen with pride, as if he were the most worthy human being on the planet when, in my eyes, he was nothing more than a piece of shit in shiny shoes and foul perfume.
"Fucking son of a bitch..." Thomas cursed in a whisper. Needless to say, he was very upset.
"God," I was still out of place. "What a… disgusting man", was the only qualifier my stupor allowed me to emit.
"If he was just disgusting, I wouldn't be worried," Thomas said and drank his coffee in two shots. I watched him stunned. "Sorry, Olivia. When I found out that this bastard was on his way, I called Ada's house to tell you not to come but according to Karl, you had already left".
"Don't worry." Once again, I was trying to take a load off him. Sometimes I felt like he cared for me too much. "It may surprise you, but I'm quite used to dealing with ... that kind of 'compliment'. In fact, all women are. When we waalk down the street it is inevitable".
"Well, I'm going to give you a gun as well as a horse." I couldn't tell if he was serious, and Tommy didn't allow me to analyze it too much: suddenly, he had placed his hands on my waist. "I didn't like him looking at your ass, " he confessed. "Only I can do such a thing", and he kissed my neck.
A tickle similar to electricity ran through each of my vertebrae as I felt him lick the skin of the jugular. I did not know if that attitude, so sudden and different from the one he had had just a couple of seconds ago, was the product of jealousy or he had wanted to behave that way since I opened the door without knocking.
"I like this dress," Thomas said, breathing heavily at the junction of my collarbones. His hands wandered eagerly up my back.
"Really?" I questioned. "It's the ugliest dress I have"
"It fits you well". Thomas trailed a path of kisses from my throat to my chin, and his hands circled my rib cage in a caress until they coupled with my breasts.
I let out a slight groan at the feel of his touch there and placed my hands over his, teasing him. He bit my earlobe and immediately afterwards, he pulled his face away from mine to look into my eyes. I witnessed his pupils dilate and the light blue of his irises become brighter, wetter. Thomas released one breast to slide his fingers down my abdomen and slipped under the skirt of my dress.
I felt his seething palm on my cold thigh as he pushed me a little against the edge of the desk and, taking all the time in the world, he fiddled with the lace on my underwear.
"No," he stopped suddenly and I looked at him, perplexed. I must confess that at the time, I hated him a little bit. "I'm not going to fuck you on a desk like a whore. You're not a whore," he said. "You deserve a bed in a beautiful room".
"Mr. Shelby," the sudden paroxysm that invaded me, made me almost call him by his first name but I intended to play the questionable formality game, "fuck me here," I demanded, and he found my demand amusing. Thomas giggle gutturally and that only helped turn me on even more.
"Are you giving an order to Thomas Shelby?" He asked provocatively.
"Forget that I'm your secretary because, after all, I'm not. There is hardly any work here and you know it. It isn't necessary for you to have a secretary and that is why they have all quited", I blurted out, annoyed. He was still touching one of my breasts and hearing me, he squeezed it.
"I'm… Olivia, Mr. Shelby. The poetess. The woman Lord Pennington called a cabaret girl". I witnessed that I had made a mistake in mentioning the old man as Thomas' gaze seemed to darkened. "And I'm not a whore because I am not going to charge you or do what I will do out of obligation. I am going to enjoy a lot when you fuck me over this desk".
"Shit" In a second, he was the same again but this time, I could tell he was trying to restrain himself. I couldn't help but wonder how easy it was to turn a man on with simple words. Thomas kissed my lips erratically. "But you said to me that we weren't going to fuck until you knew all my secrets".
"I already know all your secrets", I said, thinking about the business he had with the Chinese.
"You're wrong." Thomas was serious again but no less needy of me. "Do you know why Mosley was here?"
"No"
"Then you don't know all my secrets." Suddenly, Thomas released me and walked away with such blatant imperturbability that no one would say that he had been about to penetrate me. I noticed how he avoided my gaze and sat back in his chair as if nothing had happened.
"Excuse me…?" I was immensely confused.
"Thank you for the coffee" he interrupted, put on his glasses and took some papers. "Could you get me the accounting books for the years 1929 and 1930, please? They are in the archive office, on the first floor".
I looked at him for a couple of seconds waiting for his face to confess that he was joking. But I already knew that Thomas Shelby was not a man inclined to comedy, but rather was an arrogant and had the capricious habit of teasing almost everyone. I had already experienced his sarcasm and swagger in that very office, and although I didn't slap him yesterday, I did leave the office in great annoyance, huffing and setting the tray with the mess Mosley had made on his desk.
I made my way to the Company archive in desperation, begging to forget Thomas's snub as well as his caresses, and when I arrived, to my surprise, I found Elizabeth "Polly" Gray, Ada and Thomas' aunt, squatting down, checking books on a shelf.
That Polly was there caught my attention, for I knew from Ada that she had left the Company in 1929 and she recently had given her share of the company to her daughter-in-law.
Polly noticed someone approaching her and was not alarmed, but looked away from her reading indifferently.
"Good morning, Olivia," she greeted me and returned her attention to the book she was holding in both hands.
"Good morning… Elizabeth" I didn't think I should call her 'Polly'. "Do you know where I can find the accounting books for 1929 and 1930?"
I saw the woman scrutinizing me.
"Thomas sent you looking for them?"
"Yes."
"Well, it seems he wants you to leave him alone for a while because even if you turned this archive office upside down, you weren't going to find anything about those years," she said, standing up, determined to ignore me. She turned around and started walking away with the book that she never stopped reading.
"Why do you say that?" I began to follow in her footsteps. I hated being left with questions on the tip of my tongue.
"Because everything about those years was burned, dear" Polly snapped. "Anyway, I would advise you to spend an hour or two here. You don't want to go back to Thomas' office if he wants you out".
"Can I help you with something?" I volunteered. The thought of being idle in that cold, yellowish place that smelled of old books made me very anxious.
"No, you can't" Polly was clearly annoyed by my insistence. "Well, now that I think about it… yes, you can", she corrected herself. "I need you to help me find all the betting books from 1919 to 1924. We already have a small part done: I have found one of the many from 1919".
"It must be a lot of books," I muttered, without any intention of sounding like a complainer.
"There are many, yes, but well, it will entertain you and you will be useful". I saw her narrow her eyes. "I know you hate this job but they pay you well, doesn't it?".
"I don't hate it, although I do wish there were more things to do," I found myself confessing.
"More things to do besides fucking my nephew?"
Apparently, that rainy day I would receive a thousand attacks. In Polly's voice I did not hear hatred but questioning and distrust, as if I was trying to get something from Thomas and that offended me. I wanted nothing more than his kisses, body, and affection.
"Sadly, I didn't fuck with him yet" I frowned.
"Ha!" Thomas and his aunt share the gene that makes people arrogant.
I decided that I would not bear any more insults and, turning my back on Polly, I began to walk.
"Where do you think you are going?" Polly asked me.
"To the office, with Mr. Shelby." I glanced at my wristwatch sarcastically. "It's almost twelve o'clock. Time for before-lunch-fuck" I attacked.
Suddenly, the roles had switched, and now it was Polly's heels that followed me. I'm not going to deny that for a second I was afraid of what that woman could do to me.
"There are children involved in your relationship and you know it. Thomas has two children". She took my arm brutally and forced me to face her. "I don't want you to hurt them. Not the kids, Olivia, did you hear me?"
"What makes you think that I'm going to hurt his kids?" I asked, very indignant. "Did you say the same thing to Lizzie regarding the son Thomas had with Grace?"
"Grace was already dead and Charles needed a mother." Polly took me tighter. "Now Charles and Ruby have a mother and trust me, they don't need another one".
"I don't pretend to be anyone's mother," I managed to break free. Polly was petit but very strong. "I don't want to have children and because of my age, you should have realized that by now," I added and saw the woman disturbed by my words.
Polly stared at me for a couple of seconds, as if reading something on my features.
"You will beget a child," she whispered, abstracted.
Disturbed by her strange attitude, I almost ran out of the archive. Although I was aware that what awaited me in Thomas's office was not very hopeful, I decided to return there because it had become my only safe place within that building full of insane people.
The calm that had been increasing as I approached the secretariat door fell to the void of terror when, as I entered it, I caught sight of Oswald Mosley sitting in my chair.
It was very upsetting to see him there, in Thomas's offices, at my workplace, with his hands on the desk as if he were playing some kind of role in his twisted mind. I thought that he was already gone and his presence disturbed me so much that I couldn't help but freeze, trying to process what I was seeing.
"Hello again," Mosley greeted me with a smile.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came back because, when I was about to leave this building, your boss called the reception and ordered them to bring me up. Apparently, he wants us to finish our little talk. I went upstairs and he told me to wait for him in his office, but I got bored and started rummaging through your things". Mosley settled into my seat. "Your chair is quite uncomfortable but I suppose you don't spend much time sitting down, "he concluded using a double meaning that I decided to ignore.
"I need to work, Mr. Mosley. If it's not too much trouble, I'd ask you to go back to Mr. Shelby's office. You'll be more comfortable there." I forced myself to ignore the trembling in my legs and walked over to the desk, demanding that he allow me to take a seat.
It was at this point that I realized that Thomas had not sent me to the archive to leave him alone, as Polly had suggested, but to protect me from Oswald Mosley once again. And once again, fate prevented me from staying away from that despicable being.
Mosley stood up and moved away from my desk, all of this without taking his eyes off me for a second and I couldn't feel more uncomfortable. When I sat down, he stood in front of me, watching everything I did.
"It really makes me uneasy to know where Mr. Shelby got such a bad secretary from," he attacked. "Are you fucking him?"
"No," I denied with anger manifesting on my cheeks. I felt them boil. It seemed that everyone assumed that Thomas and I were fucking. "I'm his sister's best friend".
"Oh, I see. You're fucking his sister".
"No"
"Are you a whore, Olivia?" He asked and at that point, nothing that could come out of that man's mouth surprised me. "If you are, I can pay you well."
"I'm not a prostitute," I answered bluntly. I could think of a thousand things to say to him but I was at a disadvantage.
"I'm sorry to assume things that you are not." Mosley shrugged. "Mr. Shelby usually surrounds himself with whores. He even married one. Do you know Lizzie?"
What he said caught my attention and, apparently, astonishment showed on my face as he smirked at my reaction. I canceled any kind of gesture again and avoided looking at him.
"I know her," I replied.
"Very good at her job, I doubt you can beat her" Mosley said and sighed. "Although you must be less 'used'. That's always a virtue".
Staring at Thomas's schedule, I tried to ignore the fact that Mosley had walked over to my desk and leaned over me. It was when I felt his hand on mine that I winced.
"Nice fingers, Olivia. I wonder how many cocks you have surrounded with them".
I stood up. The chair fell and Mosley reveled in my fear. I saw him licking his upper lip as he approached where I was and when I tried to move further away, he grabbed me by the shoulders and with the brutality of a beast, he turned me around and then put me againts the wall.
I felt him rubbing against my tailbone. I couldn't help but sob in silence because I was paralyzed and the scream had stuck in my throat.
"I've noticed how important you are to Mr. Shelby. I guess you are his favorite cunt," Mosley said. He had abandoned his soft voice to one that was grotesque, almost inhuman. "It's only fair that I take something of his when he took something of mine. I'll fuck you for every vote I lost because of him. Don't take it personally" I felt his tongue on the back of my neck.
"Let her go."
Through the tears I got a glimpse of the figure of Thomas. He was pointing a gun at Mosley, hatred deforming his face. When Mosley released me, I ran to Thomas as if he were my only salvation, and when I got there my legs gave out and I allowed myself to fall to my knees. I choked on my own crying as Thomas kept threatening to shoot.
"Well, Olivia." Mosley talked to me with an imperturbability that bordered on the surreal. He seemed little concerned about having a gun pointed at his head. "Apparently your cunt is better than I thought. So good it is, that Mr. Shelby is going to kill me for daring to approach it." He shrugged as he adjusted his belt. "You are a very rare socialist, Shelby. You should learn to share with your comrades".
"You are not my comrade." Thomas had abandoned all restraints that had once limited him to venting his hatred against the man. "I'm going to shoot to your fucking head".
"Here? In your offices?" Mosley made a gesture of denial as if he was disappointed. "Don't you feel sorry for dirtying your floor with my brains?"
"It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."
I stood up when I caught a glimpse of Thomas pulling the trigger. Around me, everything happened in a way similar to that of the movies in theaters: pieces of images projected in my eyes, which seemed alien and distant, ran through time at a much slower pace.
When I placed my hand on Thomas's hand, which was the one he held the gun with, everything stopped. I saw him blink and he stopped pulling the trigger to turn his face and look into my eyes.
"No," was all I could say and Thomas understood, putting down the revolver.
Thomas is a murderer: he has been in the war, I already knew that from Ada and, although I never investigated further to protect my feelings towards him from disappointment, my soul tells me that he carries several deaths on his shoulders. A person who has never taken the life of another, lacks the necessary coldness to want to shoot with such determination. There will always be a hesitation, the certainty of making a mistake. It's not his case, and wanting to stop him from committing another murder wasn't what drew me to action at the time either.
If he killed Mosley it would be his end, our end, and I would not allow anyone to ruin our story.
Yes, I am placing Thomas and myself above a human life. Am I ashamed of it? No. Do I feel good about myself because of my incipient dehumanization? No, and that is why, in addition to the horrible experience that I lived in my secretariat, my mind broke last night when I wrote this entry for the first time: I was attacked by the beast that is Mosley, rescued in time by the beast that is Thomas and I discovered myself that I am also a beast.