Chapter 2

It took me a long minute to work through my disorientation upon waking Friday morning. As soon as I realised I was in the spare room, the memories of yesterday came rushing back to me and immediately I felt myself tense up.

I could feel the anger, hurt and betrayal rolling under the surface, but I'd somehow managed to disconnect them from the rest of me. Ah, that lovely numbness, I was going to wallow in it for a little longer, thank you very much.

Anger made a poke at my defences as I again walked back into the room, however I took a slow deep breath and proceeded to strip the bed. I mechanically went through the motions of deep cleaning the house, trying to reclaim the sense that this was my home, and to clear the taint of disgust that Richard's actions had left behind. In my mind, it was almost like a physical layer of grease that covered the house, and my cleaning expanded to take in all the soft furnishings that had removable covers. The kitchen floor was completely covered as I dumped load after load of towels, bedding, sofa covers and curtains on the floor in front of the washing machine. The duvet from the bed was the first to go in the wash, and fuck the environment, I changed the dial to a hot 60C wash.

Thankfully it was a lovely sunny day, so I was able to hang the bigger stuff on the line outside to dry during the rest of my cleaning spree.

It was around 2pm that I came across my phone still on charge in the spare room from last night. I ignored it until I had finished remaking the bed then contemplated if I could be childish and leave the thing off until Monday. However I knew the clinic would be contacting me with my plethora of results via my mobile, so frowning at the device I turned it back on. My stomach rumbled as I waited through the boot screen and I realised I hadn't eaten since last night. I made my way back to the kitchen as my phone kicked into life, as text message, after text message, after voicemail notification, sent the poor thing into a vibrating frenzy in my hand. I choose to ignore it for the moment as I raided the fridge for a late lunch. Finding leftover lasagna from Wednesday night that I had made, I unceremoniously chucked it in the microwave to nuke it.

I took my phone and slumped in one of the stools at the kitchen island. 3 missed calls, 10 text messages and 2 voicemail notifications. I've never been so alone yet so popular. I huffed out a sigh and started to work through the text messages. Finding three from the clinic, I read those first. The tension released slightly in my shoulders as I read three 'all clear' results for the quicker of the tests taken. There were still more to come which would take a while, including HIV and although I was trying not to worry about it, I knew they would be playing on my mind until I got the results back.

I had a text from Marc, hoping I was OK and reminding me to call if I needed to.

The remaining 6 texts and missed calls were from Richard. What a surprise.

I could sense the level of desperation and drunkenness increase as I scrolled down the messages. The usual expected apologies were interspaced with guilty ramblings, and declarations of love and future devotion. I think he must have passed out before getting to the lashing out stage as his last message was half completed and barely legible. The voicemails followed the same pattern, with a surprise interruption of my father asking to borrow something from us, before Richards' foray into verbal diarrhea continued. I was kind of expecting some kind of emotional upset at having to hear his voice, but the numbness prevailed and for that I was grateful.

I sent a text back to my father, not willing to entertain a conversation with him at this time. The man had a sixth sense for drama and would no doubt not only figure out everything from just one look at me or sound out of my mouth, but also hunt down and possibly kill Richard for hurting his 'baby girl'.

My stomach rumbled again and I turned my head realising I had missed the ping of the microwave. I put it on for another two minutes, risking overcooking the lasagna, and pulled out a clean plate from the cupboard.

I ate my food in silence, staring out the kitchen window. I loved this house, however Rich's actions had sullied that feeling. Whereas I always saw it as the beginning to the rest of our lives, I couldn't help but grimace thinking of all the places Rich had probably done the dirty in my home. I felt the anger rising like bile in my throat and pushed the half eaten remains of my lunch away from me. Every surface was tainted in my mind and even after my shower last night, I felt dirty again.

Not willing to face the remains of my lasagna, I binned the rest of it and put the pan in soak. With the house clean, and the last of the washing now drying I was at a loss at what to do to take my mind off that prick. Wiping my hands on my thighs I quickly strolled to the living room, intending to drown my mind in garbage daytime TV when I spotted the folder. I huffed an unamused laugh; so much for talking this through with Rich. He had no say in my life now.

The thought stopped me in my tracks. There was nothing now holding me here. My heart gave a little lurch at the thought. On one hand he had tipped the scales in one direction without even knowing, on the other I felt like the safety net of Rich possibly fighting me not to go was ripped out from beneath me. It was strange, heady feeling realising that this decision was purely now in my hands. I didn't have to justify it to anyone. Yes, it sucked that it was forced upon me, but could this be away to end this part of my life that had been so beautifully shat on? The 'clean break' as they say? I thought about if I said yes, and felt a little tremor of both trepidation and excitement run up my spine.

Feeling slightly panicky at the thought, I picked up the folder and sat down on the couch. With no wine in my system this time, I started to meticulously work my way through the information provided. It provided a good distraction and by the time 6pm rolled round I was in a state of information overload. Could I do this? Could I really leave my home, my country on my own for at least a year? As tempting as it was, I resisted opening another bottle of wine, and grabbed my phone. Dialing Marc's office line I eyed the paper strewn across my coffee table as I chewed a fingernail.

"Marc Evans' office, Karen speaking, how can I help?"

"Hi Karen, it's Kate, is Marc around please?

"Sure, I'll put you through."

The line buzzed for a few seconds until Marc picked up.

"Hey Kate, how's it going?"

"Yeah, OK considering.." I decided to focus on this only, rather than the cluster fuck that my relationship had turned into… "I've been going through the proposal, and...well… I just wondered if we could go through it together when you are free?"

"Sure, I was about to leave work soon, did you want to do it now? We can do it by phone or we could meet up somewhere say in an hour?"

The thought of getting out of the house was perfect, and I readily agreed.

"OK, I'll meet you at the Red Lion, we can get some food if you haven't eaten yet," he added. "see you in about an hour Kate."

I gave my goodbyes and started to get myself ready, scooping up the paperwork and neatly placing it back into it's folder. I grabbed a pen and pad I'd been using for notes and put it all into my work bag. As much as I would have preferred to get out of the house right that moment, I decided a quick shower was in order; smelling and looking like a hobo after my cleaning streak wasn't going to win me any friends.

Twenty hasty minutes later, I was out the door making my way to the pub. Marc took the same train home as me, but got off a few stops before so I didn't feel too guilty he was coming a bit further out than normal. I made it to the pub and grabbed a decent table in a quiet corner away from the bar and set to reading the food menu to both make a choice and kill time. The very few bites of lunch and no other food today made my belly ache with hunger and I couldn't wait for Marc to arrive so we could order.

Marc rocked up fifteen minutes later, which gave me enough time to change my mind on my starter four times. He smiled as he put his coat on the back of his chair and offered to get drinks and order food as he was still standing.

"But you don't know what I want." I looked up into his grin.

"Oh come on, you always get the same thing, even when you say you'll try something new. Loaded potato skins for starters and that barbeque chicken and bacon thingy for main."

I huffed a little indignantly and silently handed him the menu confirming my choice. His grin widened as he turned and trapsed over to the bar to place the order.

Five more minutes later and he was back with a pint of cider for me and a lager for him. I took a hearty swig and when I lowered my glass, I notice Marc looking at me with concern etched in his features.

"You OK?" A simple question. How to answer it though?

"Honestly. Not really." I fidgeted in my seat, not wanting to get into the whole Richard thing yet. I wanted Marc's advice purely on work without that influencing things. I had the feeling Marc didn't particularly like Rich, but we never broached that subject in the past other than usual 'how's your other half' pleasantries. However, where to start with the work problem? I pulled up my bag and dug out my notepad. I took Marc's advice and started jotting down anything and anything that came to mind during the day. The pages were rapidly filling up. I took a deep breath and sighed, but my first question wasn't on my list.

"Why did you agree to this? Taking the job I mean?" I figured if I could get Marc's take on his own reasons it might help me sort out my own head. He took a swig of his pint and set his glass down before replying.

"I figured it was a good opportunity, you're not the only one who gets a pay increase." He gave me an exaggerated wink and I couldn't help but laugh. It broke the tension I wasn't aware that surrounded us.

"Seriously, I wasn't at all happy how they treated you on this, and how Craig got away with this without any comeuppance, not even a misconduct. Don't mention it at work, but he doesn't have to pay back that bonus he received from winning the Muller business tender."

The anger that had been settled flared once more, this time at the injustice of it all. As an adult I know life isn't fair, but have it so blatantly waved in your face is beyond galling.

"It was when working with them on your package that I realised this was an ideal project for us both. I've not been happy here for a while so this presented itself at a good moment for me." He fiddled with a beer coaster, head bowed slightly. I could see a slight slump to his shoulders as he sat in his chair. How had I missed this?

"Were you thinking of leaving before this kicked off?" I didn't know if I wanted his answer. This was my first proper job outside of education and Marc had always been there. I started to feel I'd been taking his present for granted all these years. I had suspicions in the past, but never realised it had gotten that bad for him.

"I was considering it, yes." He looked up at my face. "I was looking for another job, but hadn't done any serious work on it."

I tried to work past my own selfishness. I couldn't let my thoughts on this colour my own opinions.

"Why not? You have a lot of experience and could make a move anywhere." I told him honestly. It was no secret that he was head hunted by a competitor last year, but remained with our company.

"I know." Marc swiped his hand down his face and took up his glass again. "I just didn't feel it was the right time." His tone shifted slightly and I felt the topic was off limits. I knew he would tell me more if I pushed him, but I didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"But now? It's the right time?" I pushed a little, looking down at my drink. When he didn't respond immediately I lifted my eyes to his. He had a small smile on his face when he answered.

"Yes, now is the right time. As I said, the offer for me is good, I've no ties here I can't sort out and it's something new for me. I'm looking forward to it." His face fell in worry again. "How about you, have you thought about this?"

I pushed off my elbows and leant back in my seat.

"I've not thought of anything but." I grimaced slightly as the lie slipped over my lips. I picked up my drink again to give me time to work my reply.

"It's… more appealing the more I look at it, I just think the circumstances around it are clouding my judgement." I lifted my glass and gestured it to Marc. "That's why I called you."

"Well, albeit it for me to cloud your judgment further, but I'm just going to put it out there. I strongly suggest you take this job. It's a very, very good opportunity for you, and the experience will set you up for life, career wise." He took another sip, almost a gulp of his drink. "But, you have your personal life to consider, and I can't help you with that part."

He looked a bit guilty at his declaration, but plowed on.

"I can, however, help you with the work part, to make this as easy as possible. HR have a team that deal with relocation, but I can help you with the finer points they don't touch, and stuff I've stumbled over you don't think about."

Marc paused for a moment, clearly working up to his next question.

"What did Richard say?" Any there it was. It was my shoulders that slumped this time. I couldn't really hold out to tell him, no matter how much I rationed it would influence his opinion. He had made it clear he wanted me to take this job however so I am not sure my reasoning held water anymore.

"He doesn't know." I took another swig of liquid courage, mostly to douse the flare of anger that coiled in my gut. Marc, ever perceptive to my moods, held silent as I swallowed my cider and placed my glass on the table.

"I came home yesterday to find him with another woman."

Marc was still for a long moment before blowing out a heavy breath and leaning back in his chair.

"Not to question you, but are you sure?"

"He was butt naked and balls deep. I'm pretty sure." The anger adding spite to my tone. "Apparently it wasn't the first time either". The ball of anger had morphed into sadness and betrayal and I blinked away the sudden onset of blurry vision. I twitched slightly as I felt Marc's hand gently reach for mine, still gripping my glass, and give me a squeeze.

"What a dick." His abrupt announcement had me bark a sharp, watery laugh and I looked up to see him smile sadly.

"Yeah, you could say that." Before either of us could say anything more, our starters arrived. Marc kindly working with the server and arranging our drinks on the table to make room whilst I collected myself and surreptitiously wiped a rogue from the corner of my eye. We muttered our thanks to the server as he left us and we started on our food. My hunger roared back into life and I polished off two potato skins before breaking off to take another drink. I looked up to find Marc staring at me, one eyebrow raised.

"Shut up, I'm hungry." He laughed, causing me to smile.

"Didn't say a word." He picked up his own fork and dived into his food. We were silent for a few more minutes as we fueled our hunger before Marc spoke up.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." My head raised at his quiet words. Unable to speak through the sudden lump in my throat I nodded and dipped my face to look back to my plate.

As we finished, Marc left the table and returned a few minutes later with new drinks. He sat back down with a flourish, and picked up my abandoned notepad, waving it in front of me.

"Mind if I take a look?"

I shook my head and gestured for him to go ahead, and he flipped it open to the first page. He was quiet for a good five minutes as I watched his eyes flicker along my scrawled musings. It was a comfortable peace I found myself in as I watch answers form in the way tiny tics flew across his face. It was the same at work, and I felt another pang of… something… imagining us not doing this together anymore.

"So, a lot of this is practical and thankfully covered by HR. Do you have a pen?" I plucked a biro from the spiral of the notepad that Marc hadn't noticed and smirked as I handed it to him. He rolled his eyes at himself and my obvious snark then started jotting notes against my questions.

The server arrived with our mains, and I helped him rearrange the table this time as Marc continued his notes.

"These here" he tapped the page with the pen "are ones I will go over with you. It's best to get the HMRC stuff right first time. Trust me, they can be a pain to get stuff corrected if it's wrong off the bat." I nodded, taxes and self assessments were something I had little experience in having all deductions taken care of by work, but moving abroad would mean filing taxes differently, it was a little worrisome.

"Don't worry it will be fine, trust me." He smiled at me, clearly reading the trepidation across my face. His smile fell and he studied me for a moment.

"If you… if you had no ties here, like… and I'm not being mean or anything, but if you were single, what would be stopping you from going?"

I pondered his question. Since this was dropped on my lap, I had been stuck thinking of reasons why I couldn't go. But now? What would be stopping me? I shrugged my left shoulder and shifted my weight slightly.

"Um, I guess it's just it's a big thing you know. I've never been the one to up sticks and leave. I'd miss my home, people, my Dad for one. You know how much I hated those trips to Europe, I'm just… stuck in my ways I guess." I lamley shrugged my shoulders again, not really able to articulate how I felt about it. Marc tapped his pen on the pad and nodded slowly.

"No, I get it. Homebody, not in a bad way, we don't all have to be outgoing. You like your stability, your routine, and if this isn't throwing all that into the wind." I fiddled with my glass again, glad to know he understood me. Probably better than Richard ever did. Before the anger could well up again, Marc spoke.

"Does it make a difference knowing that you'll have me there?" His face was serious, giving nothing away. Likely to let me form my own opinions without trying to influence me. I swallowed uncomfortably realising I was going to put myself in a bad position, career wise. But, I trusted Marc and wanted to give him the full picture.

"It makes a massive difference." I said. "After you said you'd taken the position they'd offered you, it made me realise that I would really, really miss working with you." The lump in my throat inflated again and I hoped I didn't come across as some psycho bunny-boiler. Only the stress of the past two days was leaching into my nerves. "It's just… huge, you know? At least a year in another country, doing a job I've never done before, new people…" I trailed off staring into the table.

"I've said it before, and I'll keep repeating myself until you get it. You can do this. You've practically done this job before, just you've never had the label applied to it. Remember all the new contractors we had to get in for Muller after the Berlin fuck up? Same thing, just less nutty clients to work with." He grinned at the dig at Sheryl and I couldn't help but smile back.

"But you helped with that…" I started, but Marc jumped in.

"No, the only thing I did was sign off the contracts. You did all the investigations into the alternatives, interviewed the workers, drew up the contracts and presented it to the board and Muller. The board were dead impressed with that, I told you. For someone to walk in half way through the implementation of the works, into a right mess mind you, and turn that around in under a month… not a lot of people could do it."

I mulled over what Marc had said. It was true, but I'd just never considered it like that before. It was just a mess to be sorted.

"In the interest of being honest, I want you out there, with me. We work well together, we can really do a lot of good with this project. It's going to be tough, no doubt about it, but I'm seeing this as an adventure, and I want my work-wife to come along with me."

I snorted at that last part. "Work-wife? What the fuck is one of those?" Marc gave a sheepish grin.

"Karen mentioned it once, I asked the same question, less swearing mind you, and said we're like a married couple at work."

"Oookay…" I laughed again and took a stab at my chicken. I wasn't sure what to make of that. I just thought we were good friends and workmates. No doubt Karen trying to shit stir in that pot. Another reason to go.

"I don't think your Dad would mind." Marc continued, mouth part full from the bite of his burger. "From what you've mentioned, I'd think he would be proud of you to do this."

I knew my Dad wouldn't be an issue, we were close, but not under each other's feet. My mother had passed away some years prior, and with no other siblings, people could expect us to be a little more clingy, but we had a good balance I was grateful for. I did worry however that the distance could widen our hands off approach, living in the same area forced us to pop in to each other's houses a few times a month, it made it a hellva lot harder to maintain that relationship with all those miles separating us and both our phone call phobia. It must have shown on my face for Marc added,

"I know it's a bit of a trek, but work would pay for flights for you both to see each other periodically." I gaped at him. That was generous, and I must have missed that part in my readings.

"It's not in the info pack I gave you, but part of the standard location package. Sorry I should have included that as well."

"It's freaky how you seem to read my mind sometimes." I mused. Marc just smiled and turned his attention back to the notepad and his burger.

"So, Friday is when the guys from the Tribe are coming in. If you accept the offer, we'll take the week to get your work handed over, and you up to speed with the project so far, and cover off anything you have questions about. They know about me coming onboard, and understand there's another bod, that's you, coming in late, but obviously not the final details of who, given you haven't agreed to this yet. First thing on Monday, if you accept, I'll schedule you most of the day, or the whole day if you need it, to sit down with HR and go through everything. I'll even sit in with you if you want, there's still a few bits I need to sort out for myself anyway."

"What about my work, I've still got stuff that's half done."

"Don't worry about it. Lucas and Megan will divvy up your accounts. You've trained them both well so I'm not concerned. I know how anally retentive you are so I'm sure there's no surprises for them to deal with." He grinned through a mouthful of fries. Cheeky fucker.

"You're lucky I like you." I said, narrowing my eyes playfully and jabbing my fork in his direction.

"Yeah, whatever. You love it really. He grinned again. The man was perpetually happy. It was sickening sometimes.

"You kinda make it sound like it's a done deal." I fiddled with my napkin.

"Well, it kinda is." I looked up sharply at Marc. "Honestly, we need someone to do the job, it's too much for me to do alone on top of my new role. If it's not you, it'll be someone else, it just would take longer to officially advertise the role and get someone in. Given the ultimatum, and your situation with Richard, I kinda think you're going to take it."

He sat back at his declaration. I wanted to take umbrage at the assumption, but couldn't find it in myself to argue with him. Frankly, he was right. I was back where I started yesterday morning. Take the offer, or say goodbye to my job and face a lengthy, and costly, court battle if I sued for unfair dismissal. I rubbed my hands over my face. I needed to make a decision, even if just to get this… thing… from hanging over my head.

"Take the risk, Kate." He watched me intently from across the table.

"I need to speak to Rich-"

"You don't owe him shit." I was taken aback with the venom in Marc's voice and raised an eyebrow at his outburst. Not that it wasn't warranted, I guess I needed to get out of the habit of defending my boyfriend. Or Ex boyfriend I imagine now. The thought of being single again when I thought my life was firmly settled in some form of 'coupledom' for the rest of my days made my stomach drop.

"Look, sorry, I know that was a bit harsh, but it's true. He abused your trust, god knows how long it's been going on for…"

"At least a year" I mumbled.

"Jesus, the man's an idiot." He muttered, "Anyway, don't take it the wrong way, but try and see the silver lining-"

"My boyfriend has been cheating on me for ages, and unprotected at that. Forgive me if I have not found any silver lining to this clusterfuck." I crossed my arms over my chest. Saying that out loud was more painful than I thought it would be and I could feel tears welling out of anger and helplessness at the situation I found myself subjected to through no fault of my own. I chanced a glance up at Marc to find something akin to rage flit across his face.

"You need to get yourself tested." He said quietly, holding my eye. I couldn't help but smile at his concern.

"All under control. Just waiting for the results." He nodded his approval and looked down to his nearly empty glass.

"Sorry if I come across a little tackless Kate, it's just, I think this job could be the best thing to happen to you, or, the best thing to happen right now. I know it sounds a bit cliché, but it's a clean break for you. I mean, what better way to get away from Richard the dick bag then leave the country?" He gulped down the remains of his pint and stood. "You want another?"

I nodded and held out my empty glass. I leaned back, arms crossed again and watched as Marc propped himself at the bar. It was Friday night afterall and the after work crowds were starting to pack out the pub. I was glad we got here early, the wait for food could stretch into eons sometimes in this place.

I picked up my fork and slowly trailed patterns into the barbeque sauce left on my empty plate. I felt better with a full stomach, and the added alcohol. My eyes drifted over the table, snagging on the notepad. I had no compunction to look at right now, prefering to talk things out with Marc first.

Marc returned with two more pints and a couple of shots of clear liquid, vodka I assumed.

"I thought you might want something different this time." I hmm'd my agreement as I liberated him of the smaller glasses before they ended up in my lap. Marc made to sit down when I surprised myself by blurted out.

"I'll do it. I'm in."

He paused mid hover, eyes dancing between mind, to ensure I wasn't joking.

"Y'sure?"

"Yup."

The frisson of fear in my belly was tampered by excitement. Now I had made my choice, I found an immediate sense of relief blanket me. My hands shook slightly with the sudden dump of adrenaline.

"Well, I guess I should have ordered champagne then." The biggest smile erupted across his face and I couldn't help but be swept up in his enthusiasm. "Vodka will have to do."

I laughed at him, slightly giddy with the realism sinking in. Holy Crap I was moving to the States!

We raised and clinked our glasses together, the obligatory 'cheers' ringing from our lips before throwing the liquid fire back.

"Shitting hell! That's vile!" I laughed-coughed at Marc's exclamation and the look of disgusted pasted on his face, I couldn't get the words out to agree with him.