CORAL (A Romance Trilogy, Book 1) Page 2

  “There, there sweetheart,” Gladys kneels down and smiles at me. She has kind eyes. “I live by the sea Coral, would you like to come and stay with me for a while?” I suck my thumb and shake my head. “We can go and play on the beach,” she tells me. I don't know what the beach is. “I’d really like you to come and stay, see if you like it.” Gladys wipes away my tears with a tissue. I don't mind her touching me – I think she is nice.

  “Ok,” I cry. She holds out her hand to me, I put mine in hers. Her hand is big and warm...

  WE ARE TREVELLING ON THE TRAIN. Gladys tells me to keep looking out the window because I will see the sea soon – I have never seen the sea.

  “Look Coral, can you see the sea?” I look out the window and I see something big and blue. It is very sparkly. I like it a lot. It is very pretty. Gladys walks with me from the train station, we stop outside a big house with lots of pretty flowers outside.

  “This is your new home Coral. Do you like it?” I look up at Gladys, she is smiling at me, I smile back. I think I might like it here. Gladys doesn’t seem bad, not like Mommy. Gladys shows me my room. It is pretty and I can see the sea from my window.

  Gladys is nice to me. She is big and cuddly and she smiles all the time. Gladys has a little girl, her name is Debbie, she is ten; she is nice to me too. I like her already.

  “Are you hungry Coral?” I nod my head. “Come on then sweetheart.” Gladys holds her hand out to me, I put my hand in hers and walk down the stairs into the kitchen. It is pretty with lots of flowers - Gladys has made apple crumble and custard, it is delicious.

  “Shall we go down to the beach?” Gladys asks when I finish my second bowl.

  I nod my head. Gladys takes us both out to the beach and we play all afternoon. I have never played on the beach before, I really like the sand and the pebbles.

  Debbie shows me how to make sandcastles.

  I like the sea and the waves, but it is cold and makes my feet tingle.

  Gladys tells me I will stay with her for a while and maybe forever?

  I hope so, she is really nice...

  CHAPTER ONE

  Twenty-Five Years Later...July 2013

  IT’S THE START OF ANOTHER WORKING week after a quiet, restful - if I'm honest; boring weekend. As usual, I am sat at my desk eating my bowl of muesli after my early morning swim. It’s hard to imagine that I have been working here for so long. It’s fifteen years today since I first started here, and I can’t believe how fast the time has flown by, but I love my job. It’s all thanks to Gladys of course; she stood by everything she said to me all those years ago.

  After being expelled from school, I studied at home, took my exams, then Gladys got me a position here as a legal secretary at Garland & Associates, one of the most prestigious Solicitors in Brighton, which just happens to be run by her best friend since school days - Joyce Garland.

  She is an awesome boss and I have come to regard her as more of an Aunty, but that probably comes down to the fact that I see her on weekends as much as I do Gladys. They are firm friends and partners in crime, and are so funny to be around. They are like two naughty school girls when they get together, drinking cocktails and joking about all the silly things they used to get up to in school.

  I sigh inwardly. The last few months have been so hard, Joyce recently lost her husband. One day he’s sitting in the garden with her eating his Chicken Caesar Salad, the next he’s as dead as a doornail on the floor, heart attack wiped him out. I don’t think it’s really hit her yet, she was straight back into work the day after the funeral, said she didn’t want to be rattling around at home, it’s understandable I guess.

  I suddenly feel my throat tighten up on me, the very thought of one day losing Gladys which I know is inevitable grips me, and panic takes over. I close my eyes to try and push the feeling away, Gladys is fit and healthy I tell myself. Ever since that scare four years ago, she went crazy on exercise. She takes water aerobics at the local leisure centre three times a week, and has joined a local rambling club, and is trying to get Joyce to start golfing with her - so now she’s always out and about. Gone is the big, cuddly woman I used to know – who looks and acts just like Ma Larkin from The Darling Buds of May - now there’s a slimmer version, but everything else about her has stayed the same. I hope I’ve made her proud.

  Joyce walks into the office; she’s been coming in earlier and earlier since John died.

  “Morning Joyce.” I smile up at her.

  “Morning Coral.” She looks tired. “Any messages?”

  “Yes, on your desk. Just a couple, a Mr Freeman seems desperate to get hold of you?”

  “Oh…good, that’s…..yes...” Joyce frowns deeply, smiles awkwardly at me, and then walks into her office, closing the door behind her.

  Well that was odd?

  I jump up from my desk and knock on her door.

  “Come.” I tentatively walk in.

  Joyce has been a little sharper with me lately, but I’m letting it all go, considering the circumstances.

  “Can I get you anything Joyce?” I ask softly.

  “Tea please, Coral, and get the board room ready. We need to cater lunch for five, they’ll be here at 12noon.” She orders. Five? Who the hell is coming today? There’s nothing in the diary.

  “And when you’ve done that I need to speak to you,” she adds.

  Panic washes over me – Fuck! What if I’m losing my job or something? I mean I know the economy is shaky and everything, but…I can’t lose this job, I like working on my own, I like the peace and quiet and I love working for Joyce. And it still feels like I just bought my very own apartment, my first place, even though I’ve had it a couple of years. If I lose this job I’m fucked!

  “Of course,” I answer and scuttle as quickly as I can out of her office.

  I wander into the staff kitchen in a daze and prepare her pot of tea, trying my best not to let my worst thoughts go racing around my head. When I’m done I wonder back into her office without knocking - this is normally ok, considering I’m holding a tray - but she looks up and glares at me, halting her conversation on the phone. I quickly place the tray down on her large mahogany desk, and dash back out. What the hell is going on?

  I decide the best thing to do is get to the tasks in hand, take my mind off it all. I check the company diary and see the meeting room is free, so I block it off for the rest of the day. Then I call up the catering company and place my lunch order.

  “Coral.” Joyce’s voice booms through the intercom system on my phone making me jump.

  I sigh inwardly, like it or not, I’m going to have to face the music. I stand, quickly brushing down my light blue suit trousers, trying to look as presentable as possible and knock on her door.

  “Come.” I enter her large office, which is five times the size of mine and sit in the chair opposite her. Joyce is still typing, her fingers making quick work on the keyboard.

  I take a deep breath trying to slow down my erratic heart, repeating the same mantra over and over in my head. Please say I have my job! Please say I have my job!

  “Coral.” I look up at Joyce, her glasses are perched on the end of her nose, and her shiny, short blonde hair is immaculately styled, her suit a silver grey, her makeup impeccable. You would not think she had recently lost her husband of thirty years.

  “Coral, I have some sad news.” Holy Fuck! No, no, no please don’t say it!

  I swallow hard.

  “I’m selling the company.” Selling the company? No, you can’t! What the fuck does this mean?

  Joyce sighs heavily, leans back on her chair and stares out of the window for a moment. Then she looks back at me, takes off her glasses and leans forward onto her desk, I stare back at her my eyes wide with fear. “Coral, I want you to know that your job is safe. One of the conditions when I sell will be that they keep you on. You have worked here for a long time, and you’re an extremely valued member of staff,” she tells me. “My most valued,” she adds.

&n
bsp; I am silent, dumbstruck. I feel all the chemical reactions one might feel to cry, but no tears come to the surface – I'm very good at blocking it out.

  “I’m sorry Joyce.” I offer, not knowing what else to say. She finally smiles at me but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

  “Coral, I am sorry I hadn’t warned you earlier, but in all honesty….well the offer has only just been put to me. I hadn’t even thought about it until Mr Freeman made the suggestion, then I spent a few nights thinking about it. John and I built this company from scratch and….well he’s everywhere I look…,” she says choking back tears, and takes a handkerchief out of her clutch bag. “I’m sorry,” she trembles.

  For a moment I feel lost, I don’t quite know what to say or do, she is my boss after all. Then I remember her singing and laughing with me on the karaoke machine last Christmas, we were all so happy. I launch myself out of my chair and place my arms around her shoulders.

  “Oh Joyce, I’m so sorry.” I offer. I can feel her pain and hurt rolling over me like waves hitting the shore. She squeezes my hand and closes her eyes, trying to gather herself together.

  “It’s for the best,” she sighs. “My sister wants me to join her in Florida,” she adds.

  I smile back at her. “Maybe it’s a good move.” I say, but inwardly I’m reeling. Joyce knows me; she knows what I’m like, what if my new boss isn’t happy with the way I am?

  “Yes, well that’s what Gladys said, a new chapter in my life.” Shit! Gladys knows and she didn’t tell me. I feel my jaw tense and my teeth clamp together. “Now don’t get that look in your eye,” she scolds.

  I frown in return. “Sorry,” I mutter sitting back down in the chair.

  “I only discussed it with Gladys this morning. She wanted to tell you, but I said I would.” She leans back in her chair, and runs a hand through her hair. “Coral, the deal hasn’t been made yet. But that doesn’t mean it won’t go ahead. Mr Freeman is very keen; I need you to promise me you will keep this to yourself.”

  I swallow hard. “Is that who’s coming in today?” I ask tentatively.

  “Yes. He runs three very successful Solicitors, one in London, Birmingham and Leeds. He wanted to branch out into the South, heard what happened about John made me an offer….a very good offer,” she sighs.

  I swallow hard again. “Joyce, I really won’t lose my job will I? I mean, I’ve just bought my first place and with the mortgage’ – “Coral, you have my word, you have no need to worry at all, but can you promise me you’ll keep this between us?” I sigh heavily. This was not what I was expecting when I came into work this morning.

  “Yes Joyce, of course. I won't mention a thing.” I try to pull my lips up into some sort of semblance of a smile. “Well, I’d better get back to it,” I sigh. “Do you need anything Joyce?” I add.

  “No thank you Coral that will be all.” I stand as gracefully as I can, my legs shaking from the adrenalin pumping through my system, and walk out of her office.

  I’m so glad I have my training session with Will tonight; I am so fucking pissed right now!

  Closing the door behind me, I race over to my desk, fire up Google and start my search. I want to know what Mr Freeman looks like. I am not happy, in fact, I’m really trying not to freak out - I have never wanted, and never will want a male boss.

  Fuck, what am I going to do?

  I remember the woman who called for Joyce was from the company Freemans & Co. I quickly type it in and their website appears. I have no idea what Mr bloody Freeman looks like, so I search the website for some photos. I have to know, if he is in any way creepy I am out of here, I can’t work for a pervert and there’s already a few male solicitors in this building that I purposely avoid.

  As I’m scanning the webpage I notice all the buildings are the same, white stone and tinted windows, very smart and business-looking. I scowl at the screen. Who gives a fuck what his buildings look like?

  Finally, I find his name – Tristan Freeman – No fucking way!

  I gasp, pulling my hand to my mouth. Tristan and Isolde; only my favourite movie of all time, I really love their story. I choke back a nervous giggle - Get a grip Coral!

  I backspace out of the site and put his name into Google. There are tons of posts. I click on the first one; it’s a page from The Independent. I start to read through the blog....

  ‘Millionaire Mogul Tristan Freeman in talks with the local council attempting to gain planning permission for his new offices in Leeds’ – Boring!

  I come out of that one, and see the blog was a few years ago, guess he got permission. The second blog is from a site called Property News. I click on it and find our Mr Freeman is not only interested in the Law, but also property development. I start reading.....

  ‘Mr Tristan Freeman is pleased to announce his decision to turn an undeveloped area of the city centre of Birmingham into bespoke apartments. The run-down area of Birmingham, mostly abandoned warehouses; will be demolished and replaced with plush new apartments. But Mr Freeman insists they will be made affordable housing. “It is my belief that the more money generated into an area, especially a run-down area as this, has the capacity not only to reduce crime, but make the area more pleasant to live in. Which means less poverty and more help for those who need it; it also enhances the general area, enticing other developers to join in its redevelopment.’

  Hmm.....so Mr Moneybags wants to help renovate poor areas, I wonder why? I shake my head in wonder. Why the hell are people so obsessed with getting rich? They always seem so miserable to me. I come out of the blog and click on images. It’s bound to have some photos of him. My screen suddenly fills with the most handsome man I have ever seen. Fuck, this is not good!

  I pull my hand up to my constricted throat and try to swallow. I click on an image; he’s at some swanky black tie do. His suit looks...well, totally and utterly ‘wow’ on him, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen shoes so shiny. I am trying as hard as I can to be practical, logical, but the fact that my heart just stuttered, stopped then began beating rapidly again is not helping, it’s only a picture for god’s sake! Damn he looks fine!

  As my eyes work my way up his body I can see by his stance that he is oozing with confidence, his body looks rigid and hard. He’s got to work out? His shoulders just look too...well, big to be natural, and he’s got to be at least 6ft - Damn it, me and my tall men syndrome!

  I close my eyes and try to reign in my over active imagination. Fuck he’s hot, really, really hot – Just the body alone – Stop Coral!

  I open my eyes and zoom in on the photo. I want to get a good look at his face. Jesus Age Christ!

  I am breathless, he’s male model swooning, dark knight, shining armour, handsome. I shake my head at my wayward thoughts and clear my throat. Then I take a deep breath, slowly blow it out and resume my ogling. The first thing I notice is that he has the nicest, kindest, deepest chocolate brown eyes I have ever seen, which are wrapped in thick brown eyelashes. Which is weird, I’m normally attracted to blue eyes? And it’s weird that I find them so, so.....soulful?

  His eyebrows are full and his forehead is strong and smooth. He has a straight roman nose, his cheekbones are high and pronounced and his lips are full, and look very, very kissable and he has the cutest little sticky out ears, he’s totally endearing.

  His hair is medium brown and styled into place to match the mogul that he is, and I can see in this picture he’s recently been away, his slight tan showing a few freckles across his nose, the sun has also tinged his hair, showing natural copper highlights from where it’s bleached it. I wonder if it would be delectably soft if I ran my fingers through it?

  I come back out of the photo and stare and all the different pictures of him. Then I notice something odd, he’s not smiling at all, in any of them. His jaw is set and he looks as though he is grimacing. There see, miserable bastards with tons of money!

  Maybe he has really bad teeth or something? I chuckle to myself. Bloody gorgeous though – Sto
p Coral!

  I quickly get rid of Google, lay my head back in the chair and close my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I try to work out why I’m feeling like this? I decide it may have something to do with the fact that I haven’t had sex in two years.......I shudder remembering the reason why.

  I swallow hard at the bile that’s trying to rise into my throat and blank the memory, the feelings, so in the end, I only feel numbness. But that’s always been my way of dealing with things - block it out, repress it until it stops coming back.

  Satisfied that the memory is gone, I open my eyes and sit forward at my desk. I dash a look across the room at the clock on the wall, only 9.15am. I am fidgeting all over the place, my leg is bouncing up and down and as I look down I realise I am chewing my fingernail. Shit not good! Maybe I should see if I can get an appointment with George tonight?

  He’s my therapist – my wonderful therapist. I shake my head at myself in frustration, this guy has got me feeling off the hook and all out of sync and I haven’t even met him yet!

  I pick up the phone and call George, only to be told by his partner Phil that he is at a function this evening, otherwise he would have fitted me in, but he can schedule me in for an earlier appointment tomorrow.

  “No thanks Phil I’ll keep it at six.” I grumble.

  “Ok, you have a good day.” He tells me perkily.

  “You too.” I put the phone down and pinch the bridge of my nose. Come on Coral you can do this!

  Rob, that’s who I need, my best friend. My gay best friend, ever since my female best friend, Harriett, decided it was ok to be shagging the one and only guy I ever fell for. I shut the door on that thought. I pull my mobile out of my bag and text Rob.

  *In trouble big time, call me!*

  I leave my mobile on my desk and get to the rest of my work, which I have been ignoring for the last half hour. This is not me. I am fast, efficient and on time. I would normally have had all these letters typed up, signed by Joyce and in the post by now.