Port in a Storm

"Do you have family?" I asked, sitting down again.

"My mother lives in Hillsborough." She raised a hand to wipe her nose. "I don't want to bring her into this. He won't like it."

"How long has this been going on?"

Amy remained silent again. I touched a shoulder, squeezed it gently. "I want to help," I said softly. "You can confide in me."

"About a month or so," she finally replied. "I mean...he gets rough after a few drinks...he's slapped and pushed me on a number of occasions...but since the last month..."

"Didn't you call the police?"

"I did. Once. After he threw me down the stairs. He said..." A tear slid slowly down her cheek. "He said I fell. That I'd been drinking and we'd argued and..." Her bottom lip trembled. "He was right. I'd been drinking. And we'd been arguing, so..."

"Amy—"

"And I chose to go back. So what the hell are they going to do?"

"So don't go back. Go live with your mom. Will she have you?"

"I don't want—"

"Amy, you need to get out and get help!" My voice turned firm. I felt angry. I'd been a fool. It made me angry to see another person in the same place, being a fool. "There's help, okay? Just...leave him."

"I love him."

"You don't."

"I do." She put the icepack away, raised the hood of her jacket again. "I have work... I should..."

She rose from the chair, trembled slightly. With slow, unsteady steps, she walked towards the door, reaching for the knob.

"Thanks," she murmured, looking over her shoulder. And then she was gone, the door shutting behind her.

I was still sitting in the chair, staring at the door, when it swung open again.

"Everything okay?" Kristin asked, looking concerned. I nodded, pushing myself out of the chair. "Umm...Michael McKay is here to see you, Vivienne," she added hesitantly. I turned around, frowning.

"He's...here?" I couldn't believe my ears. Kristin nodded.

"You said you weren't taking visitors, so he decided to wait. Should I...?"

I sighed, looked around the office in confusion. I hadn't thought at all about the offer, hadn't got the chance to. Didn't think Michael would turn up to see me in person, though...

"Okay," I relented, sinking into my chair. "Send him in."

Kristin disappeared. A moment later, there was a knock on the door.

"Hello, Vivienne." Michael smiled, as I looked up and measured him. Dressed in black trousers and blazer, briefcase in hand, he cut a business-like figure. "Long time, huh? How have you been?"

"I know what you're here for." I motioned him to sit with a tilt of my head.

"Of course you do. You're an intelligent girl." He leaned forward in the chair, his fingers entwining on the table. "No wonder Simon wants you."

"Michael." I breathed slowly, my hands clenching into fists. "I don't want you people to ruin anything."

"Have we ever ruined anything for you, Vivienne?" he asked, staring right into my eyes. I swallowed, felt my heart pounding.

"We only mean business," he snorted. "You helped redesign and relaunch this hotel, and now it's one of the highest revenue earning properties we have. Simon fucking loves your work. It's only natural he wants you to be involved in his new property." He tilted his head to a side, crossing his legs. "Isn't that simple?"

"I'm working here. I don't think I can manage two things at the same time."

"Simon will work something out. It shouldn't be your concern." He pulled up his briefcase, opened it with a click. "I brought a contract over, for you to look at."

"I haven't said anything yet."

"You will." He pushed the contract towards me. "Take a look. There's no pressure, but Simon thinks you're the best person."

I only glanced at the contract but did nothing else. It had been long. Things had changed. My life had changed. I wasn't 19 anymore. Of course, Simon knew that as well. He had a major hand in making me what I was.

"Just think about it." A hand covered mine. I looked down. "You've ever known Simon to not get what he wanted?"

I looked away, feeling my cheeks go hot. Michael gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Sorry, didn't mean to bring it up."

"It's fine." I looked back at him and forced a smile. "Long time ago."

"He misses you."

"That's nice." I crossed my arms, pulling my hand out of his grasp. "I hope he's well." I chewed my lip, trying to think. "Tomorrow, okay? I'll call you tomorrow. Let me sleep on it."

"Sure." He closed his briefcase, pushed his chair back, and rose to his feet. "Nice to see you after a long time. You're doing great."

I nodded slowly, looking away. Michael started walking towards the door, his bald head glistening in the daylight. "Congratulations on the engagement, by the way," he threw a smirk at me, opened the door and disappeared.

I stared at the contract sitting on the table, a haze of confusion clouding my senses.

*

The water in the swimming pool was a shimmering blue. It was warm as well. I sat there with my feet dipped into the water, my eyes staring absently at the little ripples running across the pool.

It was a nice place. When we first started looking for a home, Dave decided he didn't want to live in an overly wealthy neighbourhood. He also wanted a secure, homely community since he had erratic hours and he didn't want me to be all alone. Our home was lovely, a Georgian residence sitting amidst a nice garden, and the locality was an upscale cul de sac mostly comprising young couples and families. It was quiet, tree-lined, and had nice neighbours who looked out for one another. One of Dave's high school friends also lived here with his young family. We also had a gym at home, for Dave's convenience. He could also be seen playing with the neighbourhood kids on a day off, when he wasn't sleeping in or reading.

He was always the gregarious one, totally infectious company. I was still the quieter one, unable to open up or make friends easily. Yes, I was the marketing manager of a luxury hotel, but that was my job. I was paid to smile, to talk, to shake hands. In my personal life, I was a different person.

The poolside was empty at the moment. Of course, it was ten-thirty in the night. Only an insomniac would be sitting by the pool at that time.

About two minutes later, I heard footsteps behind me. Even without looking, I knew who it was.

"Hey, love." He turned up beside me, sat down on the steps, folding his legs. "What's up?"

I nodded, moving closer to him. He put an arm around me. "How was the surgery?" I asked.

"Successful. We've removed the tumour, but he needs to be kept under observation. We have to see how he's responding." The arm around me squeezed gently. "Why are you still up? Why here?"

"Wasn't sleepy. The house seemed too quiet without you, so thought of coming here..." I caught his hand, held it between my palms. "I missed you."

"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning slightly. "You sound low." He pulled me in closer, stroked my hair. "What happened?"

"Later, Dave," I tried to shrug it off. "You're tired."

"Never too tired for you. Tell me what's wrong."

I thought for a moment, and then told him about Amy. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. It had been more than two hours that I'd returned home after a really hectic day, and on other days I'd be asleep by then. But tonight I was thinking about Amy, wondering how I could help her.

"She reminded me of myself," I spoke softly, my head hanging low, hair fallen over my face. "I felt so helpless."

"Vivienne, three out of ten women are victims of abuse," he said, staring at my face. "It's crazy, but it's true. Can you help all of them?"

"No...but I want to help her." I looked up at his face, a lump forming in my throat. "Why are men like this? Why do they pick and woo their victims and cultivate romance in order to commit a crime?"

"Because they're arseholes." Dave sighed, put both arms around me now. "That's the simple answer. The more complex answer is that they've had bad influences in life leading them to believe that women can be hurt and used and commodified. Maybe they'd seen someone in their family doing that, and grew up believing it's normal."

"How can I help her?"

"I don't know. Does she even want help?"

"Did I want help?"

"Yes. You ran away, remember? Nearly got run over..." He trailed off, clenching his jaw. A dry smile tugged at my lips. I'd been hobbling down the middle of the road. Had it not been for Dave, I'd surely have been run over.

"You don't even know anything about her," he added. "You don't know what her boyfriend is like, or how dangerous he can get." He sighed again. "The wisest thing to do would be to call the cops, and make her admit the truth. Or call them when he's hitting her...you know, catch him in the act."

"Who's going to do that?"

"She has to. Obviously, you aren't going to go and film everything, are you?"

"You don't want me to help her?" I searched his face, seeking an answer to my confusion.

"I'm a doctor, Vivienne," he explained patiently. "I help people. That's what I do. I'm all for helping people." He kissed my forehead, and I snuggled into his arms, breathing against his jacket. "But I wouldn't want your safety to be compromised. You've built this life for yourself with great difficulty. I wouldn't want you to compromise on it for anything in the world."

He looked down at my face, smiled tenderly. "As long as you're safe, it's okay. I'm okay with it."

"She said she loves him," I said brokenly, leaning against his broad chest. "Even after he hit her..." I shook my head, staring at the water. "The first time he hit me, I knew I didn't love him anymore. I was afraid of him. You're not supposed to be afraid of someone you love, right?"

"Right. But that realisation has to come from within." He moved his arm away, stretched his legs. "You cannot make her understand if she doesn't want to. You've been there. You know the psychology."

I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself. It was starting to get a tad chilly, and I lamented not bringing my shrug along. Dave was quiet, staring at the water.

"What should I do?" I finally asked.

"Come and sleep with me. It's what...?" he looked at the time on his watch. "Almost eleven. It's really late." His arm came around me again. "You're okay?"

I shrugged, biting on my lip. "Do you want to cry?" he asked. I laughed quietly, shaking my head.

"I don't cry." I brought my legs out of the water, my feet feeling the chill now that they weren't in the warmth anymore.

"I know. You're strong." He caressed my head with a strong hand, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "Sleepy?"

"Not really."

"I'll help you. Come on." He helped me to my feet, smiled when I yawned.

"You're leaving in the morning?" I asked him.

"Yes. Should be back early, though." He took my hand as we made it back inside the house. "I've got a number of outstation conferences the next couple of weeks. Will you be okay?"

"What'll you do if I'm not okay?" I asked quietly, watching the trees swaying in the soft breeze. Dave stared, looking kind of troubled. I smiled, circling my arms around him.

"I'll be fine," I said, nodding, linking fingers with him as I put my head down on his shoulder.

*

To my utter dismay, I didn't see Amy the next day. Or the next. It only made me worry even more. It didn't make sense to worry about someone I didn't even know, but she was my employee. It wasn't possible for me to know every employee by name, but as a woman who'd been in a strangely similar situation not too long ago, my heart reached out to her.

"Kristin, what's the janitorial company that serves our hotel?" I asked my secretary that morning. I had asked around for Amy every day for a week, but she wasn't at work.

"I'm not sure." Kristin was already tapping on the computer, picking up the phone. "I can check with the housekeeping manager?"

"Do it. I want to talk to whoever is in charge of the company."

I returned to my office, not totally sure why I was doing it. Amy was a mere janitor there who I didn't even know till a few days ago. If the manager got to know, he wouldn't approve of it.

But I'd seen her wounds. They spoke to me. The first time I got a black eye, I remembered having taken a picture, just to make myself believe that the man I loved could do that to me. I wondered if Amy did anything like that.

There was a knock, and then the door swung open.

"You called me, Ms Robinson?" It was the housekeeping manager, looking really nervous.

"No, I... Yeah, I wanted to know who supplies us janitors," I said. "I want their number."

"It's Good Neighbours, a fairly new company we've been hiring from since the last year," he explained. "The numbers should be in the book there," he pointed at the phone book beside the handset.

"Oh...okay." I remembered having had a meeting with the housekeeping manager and the owner of that company before they started work with us. I'd somehow forgotten all about it.

"Umm...is everything alright, Ms Robinson?" The man asked me nervously, as he saw me reaching for the phone. His fears weren't unjustifiable. I'd indeed called people to my room several times to reprimand them, or suspend them, or hand them the pink slip. I looked at him, nodded reassuringly.

"Don't worry. I just want to know something." I forced a smile, saw the man relax slightly. "You may go now. Thank you."

He said thank-you and left. I dialled the number, waiting impatiently as it rang on the other end.

A man answered a while later.

"Good Neighbours. How may I help you?"

"This is Vivienne Robinson, marketing manager, Kingston Regency." I paused while the man tried to get over his bafflement. "I'm calling to inquire about a certain Amy. She's a janitor working at our hotel."

"Yes, ma'am, but she's on leave now."

"On leave? Since when?"

"Last week. She's supposed to join sometime next week." There was a pause on the other end while I tried to think of something to say. "Is there any problem, Ms Robinson?" The man asked, sounding concerned.

"No...no, everything's fine." I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. "I wanted to meet her. Wondered why she wasn't in. Anyway, thanks for the information. Ask her to meet me when she comes back, please?"

"Sure, ma'am. We'll inform her."

I hung up, leaned back in the chair. It was crazy. Just a few days ago, I didn't know she existed. And here I was, worrying sick about her now. I hoped she was okay, mentally scolding myself for not taking her number or address or something. Of course I could ask her company, but then...

I opened my bag, fished out my phone, looking through the messages. My eyes fell on the contract Michael had handed me, still sitting in my bag, untouched.

I pulled it out, spread it on the desk. I skimmed it briefly, eyes widening when I saw the figure at the bottom.

That...was a lot of money.

Simon was paying me stupid to have me market and launch his new hotel? Sure, he would know since he'd taught me the ropes long back. He'd taught me business. That's how I got to sit in the marketing manager's chair.

It had been amicable, I supposed, and we still had a perfectly fine working relationship. I didn't know if I'd been that into Simon physically, but it had been the money, the connections. It had all been a bit intoxicating. Being young and not knowing what the hell I was doing. I owed Simon a lot, almost as much as I did to Dave. That didn't mean I needed to be reminded of it.

It had been a hard day, opening the safe in that motel, seeing the wad of cash. I'd seen Simon two days later at a club event, and not walking over to slap him in the face had been one of the hardest things I'd ever done. Simon had always taken care of me though. I supposed I was grateful.

My phone rang. I absently grabbed it, my eyes still going over the contract.

"Vivienne? Honey, what are you doing this evening?"

I scratched my hair, then turned the pages of the contract. "I'm probably going home, mum," I finally answered after some thought. "I've got a meeting with the manager and then I should be out of here. Why?"

"I'm going to meet the sick children at the hospital. Would you like to join me? Maybe you could stay back for dinner...?"

Dave's parents ran a non-profit hospital for terminally ill children, and mum was very actively involved with it. Dave sometimes performed surgeries there for free. Ever since I came into the family, I'd been there several times. I liked spending time with the kids there.

"Umm...I don't feel like it, mum," I mumbled, closing my eyes and leaning back in the chair. "I'll probably just go home and sleep."

"Missing Dave, aren't you?" I could sense her smile. Dave was away on a conference, was supposed to be back the day after, and then head off next week for another conference. After four years, I thought I was used to it. But the house seemed so empty without him.

"I'm fine," I said, staring out of the window. "Think I'm just tired, though. Rain check?"

Mum laughed. "Okay, rain check," she said. "Sure you'll be alright?"

"Yes. Don't worry."

"Okay. Take care, sweetheart."

"You too, mum. Bye."

I put the phone back inside my bag, bundled up the contract, and got out of my chair.

"I'll be back in a while, Kristin," I instructed her, walking down the marble floor. "Take the messages for me."

"Sure." I saw her nodding as I dashed for the elevator.

*

"Fancy seeing you here." Michael jumped out of his chair when I entered his office, a broad grin on his face. The smile that said he'd won. "You were supposed to call me last week."

"I know. I just took a little longer to look over the contract." He offered me a seat, and I gratefully sank into a chair. "Offer's still open?"

Michael laughed. "Simon's been asking about you. He wants an answer."

"That's why I'm here." It was a good offer. Six months contract, plus lots of privileges. I'd booked lots of times for Dave and his team. Just last month I'd hosted an international medical conference in the Crystal Hall which Dave had been a part of. They appreciated that they could make bookings so easily with me in the hospitality industry. "Six months, right?"

Michael nodded. "Should be done by then. It's a big property." He tapped a few keys on his laptop, then turned it towards me. "These are the pictures. Take a look."

I saw that it was a boutique hotel that Simon was aiming for. It looked okay, just about average. Nothing caught my eye, though. It just didn't seem luxurious enough.

"So?" Michael asked, staring at my face. I looked up from the monitor, met his eye, and looked away without a reply. He smirked, turning back the laptop. "What do you think?"

"Why me?" I asked tentatively. "He can have anyone he wants..."

"Right. And he wants you." He leaned forward on the desk. "You've so far worked on five major properties for us, and all of them have had stupendous revenues right from the launch. You know how to bring in people." He leaned back. "Simon thinks you're lucky for him."

I didn't reply to that. I didn't even know why I was there. I was worrying about Amy, and missing Dave, and needed something to distract me. And I was this close to signing a six-month contract with Simon Flatley.

"Do I hear a yes?" Michael raised an eyebrow. I breathed, hoping I didn't regret this later.

"I'm in." I said it too quickly. Michael waited, like expecting me to say something more. When I didn't, he smiled.

"Welcome aboard, Vivienne," he reached a hand out. I took it hesitantly, pulled away after a moment. "Now, let's go through the contract, and get over with the paperwork, right?"

I nodded, leaning over the desk as he explained things to me. An hour later, I was coming out of his office, deal in one hand, and advance paycheck in the other. For some unknown reason, I was smiling.