Cruel Legacy

‘Golf?’ Deborah had been teasingly derisive when he had first taken up the sport, scoffing that it was a game for middle-aged men.

Mark, though, enjoyed it; he liked its need for concentration and care; all the things about it which irritated and amused Deborah pleased and soothed him.

It helped, of course, that he also had a distinct flair for it; more than one golf club ‘pro’ had praised his skill and all his partners were envious of his handicap and expertise.

Golf, of course, was not one of Ryan’s sports.

Initially this morning when a client had rung and suggested a game Mark had intended to refuse, but then he had looked at his empty desk and had changed his mind.

Now, out on the course, listening to his partner’s envious praise, he realised how much better he felt, how good it was to be away from the office and his awareness of others’ contempt for him, of their seemingly never-ending comments about Deborah’s promotion.

‘Never mind,’ one of the more louche and unpleasant of the new crop of junior accountants had commented with a wink and a leer. ‘If things get really bad on this side you can always use your influence and transfer over. Mind you, you’ll probably have to pay for it…’ His leer had deepened and Mark had found himself fighting to control not just his dislike and distaste for the younger man’s attitude, but his anger with Deborah as well.

Yes, it felt good to get away from the office—and from Deb? He frowned as he waited for his partner to take his shot.

* * *

‘Yes?’ Ryan’s secretary looked up over her glasses at Deborah bossily.

Ignoring the older woman’s tone, Deborah smiled and handed her the folder she was carrying.

‘It’s the report Ryan wanted for the partners’ meeting this afternoon.’

The secretary’s frown deepened. ‘Partners’ meeting? What partners’ meeting?’ she demanded, making no attempt to take the file from Deborah. ‘There is no partners’ meeting.’

Deborah stared at her. ‘But Ryan told me this morning that he needed this report for this afternoon.’

The woman stared back at her implacably. ‘There is no meeting,’ she repeated.

Back at her own desk, Deborah put down the file. She had worked her butt off this morning preparing that report, and working on it had not just caused her a high output of anxiety, it had also cost her time as well.

‘Perhaps if I could see Ryan?’ Deborah had suggested, holding on to her temper and ignoring the other woman’s aggression. She had long held the view that Ryan deliberately used his secretary as a smokescreen and a barrier, and that her aggression towards other members of the firm amused and even pleased him.

‘He’s out,’ she had told Deborah curtly. ‘And he isn’t due back in again until half-past four,’ she’d added for good measure.

Now, as she stared grimly into space, Deborah wondered what kind of game Ryan was playing with her. Mentally she went over their earlier conversation. Yes, he had quite definitely said that he wanted the report today, and he had also quite definitely told her that there was to be a partners’ meeting.

Since his secretary wasn’t expecting him back until later in the day, he couldn’t have organised the meeting without informing her.

Biting her lip, she put a call through to one of the other partners’ secretaries, pretending that she couldn’t read an entry she had scribbled in her diary.

‘A partners’ meeting?’ the other woman repeated. ‘No, I don’t think so, not today.’

Thanking her, Deborah replaced the phone.

* * *

She had had to wait until gone six for Ryan to return, and had in fact been on the point of giving up when she had seen him comin

g in.

Fortunately his secretary had already left, so there was no one to stop her when she followed him into his office.

‘Still here… ?’ He smiled jovially at her, but the smile he gave her was knowing and sly.

‘I had to work late to make up for the time I wasted this morning on your report,’ Deborah told him evenly.

‘What report… ? Oh, that—yes, I’m sorry; the meeting was cancelled. I tried to tell you before I went out, but you were… otherwise engaged…’