Jake swiped the plastic key card through the lock and the door clicked open. The apartment was spotless, and there were even fresh flowers in the vase on the sideboard. Jake stood motionlessin the hall. He had mixed emotions about being there; on the one hand, it felt like he could almost be returning from a day’s work at the office, but on the other hand, it felt like he’d just stepped into a stranger’s apartment. The life that he had led there, with Eleanor, seemed but a distant memory.
Besides the cleaners, nobody had probably stepped into this apartment since he had closed the door on Christmas Eve. His apartment, like his job at the Ross Corporation, was still vacant, still waiting for his return.
‘Well, it’s going to be a long wait,’ said Jake to the empty hallway.
Jake chose the bedroom furthest from the one he and Eleanor had shared. The room felt as impersonal as a hotel – almost. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought about his journey the next day to see Arnold Wright. He was catching the flight at twenty past one in the afternoon, which gave him plenty of time to get to the airport, have a bite to eat, and wait in the departure lounge. His car was parked outside, ready to roll in the morning. It occurred to him that he could ask Harry to organise a taxi so that he wouldn’t even have the hassle of airport parking.
He knew he should be feeling relaxed, he should be feeling calm, he should be looking forward to a trip away.
He slept badly.
At some point in the early hours, Jake had resigned himself to the fact that he would not be sleeping that night, so he had hauled himself out of bed and made his way to the lounge, where he had found a bottle of scotch.
He woke late, on the sofa, a feeling of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t remember getting out of bed. There was blood on the sofa. Jake looked at the blood stain, then at his hands. The bandages were pink, and his hands felt raw.
Jake sat up from the sofa and accidentally kicked over the bottle, which was now empty. He watched it roll under thecoffee table, wondering what it was doing down there. Then he remembered the previous night. He groaned. This was not a good start to his holiday. He had a motorway drive ahead of him to the airport, and he was probably still over the limit. He realised that driving there himself was out of the question.
He stood up, very slowly this time, and took a good look at the sofa. There were smears of blood all over the place, suggesting he must have been thrashing about in the night. He made a mental note to ask the concierge to dispose of the sofa and replace it with a brand new one. First, though, he had to find the first aid kit.
Chapter 18
Jake shut the door to the apartment, deciding he’d rather wait outside for Derrick to arrive at nine. When Jake turned around, Derrick was already there, waiting by the lift, a look of expectation etched on his tired features.Somebody else has had a sleepless night, thought Jake. Derrick’s eyes roved to Jake’s bag. He walked over and reached down for it.
‘Not just yet.’ Jake said. ‘Come here.’
Derrick gingerly stepped forward.
‘I want you to take this.’ Jake handed Derrick the plastic key card. ‘Let me show you how this works. Just slip it in there, like so.’ Jake watched Derrick. ‘That’s right – straight down until the little light flashes red to green, see it?’
Derrick nodded.
Jake opened the door to the apartment and walked in.
Derrick stayed where he was, looking down at Jake’s bag, obviously wondering what he’d forgotten to pack.
‘Come inside, Derrick. I’ve got something to show you.’ Jake led the way.
Derrick, hesitant at first, stepped inside as instructed. Jake took Derrick on a tour of the apartment.
Derrick followed Jake in stunned silence; stunned because every Ross employee in the building wanted to know what it was like up there inRoss Heaven. It was what they called the apartments on the top two floors. Derrick – to his utter amazement – was the only employee, apart from the staff of the contracted cleaning company, to see it for himself. Not only that, but he was being shown around by Mr Campbell-Ross himself.
Partway through the tour, when Derrick had stopped to linger in one of the stupendously extravagant marble bathrooms. He wondered if the taps were gold-plated. Then he wondered if the rumours about Jake Campbell-Ross were true; maybe he was having some kind of breakdown. What other reason would there be for leaving all this to teach in an inner-city school like the one Derrick had attended himself? Not to mention what he was doing now – showing a porter around his apartment.
However, Derrick could see that Mr Campbell-Ross knew exactly what he was doing; he was showing him what he had a chance to achieve through hard work and dedication. He’d read about Mr Campbell-Ross. He’d been through his share of hard times as a child, losing both his parents, but he’d fallen on his feet; he’d been taken under the wing of William Ross. However, Derrick also knew that William Ross did not believe in nepotism. Neither Jake nor Marcus would have made it to these two much-coveted apartments on this floor, just below the CEO’s, if they hadn’t worked incredibly hard to make it.One day, this is going to be mine, thought Derrick.
Suddenly aware that he had lingered too long, Derrick called out, ‘Mr Campbell-Ross?’ and quickly left the bathroom. He found himself in a L-shaped corridor, with Mr Campbell-Ross nowhere to be found. Tentatively, Derrick opened doors. ‘Mr Campbell-Ross?’ he called into rooms he had not yet seen. There was a library that was like something out of a movie, with three walls stacked floor-to-ceiling with books, and a games room witha full-size snooker table, which made him think of his brother’s fold-down toy snooker table, which he’d got for Christmas the previous year. It made him wish his brothers were there too. They’d never believe him when he went home after work and told them what he’d seen.
Derrick failed to find Mr Campbell-Ross behind yet another door, but he did find a second sitting room with a humungous plasma television screen on the wall. Derrick whistled before closing the door.
‘Mr Campbell-Ross?’ Derrick said to the empty corridor. There were still other doors he had not yet opened, other rooms to explore, but perhaps the tour was over, and Mr Campbell-Ross wanted to leave now. With that thought in mind, Derrick raced to the front door of the apartment, praying he had not made a huge mistake and outstayed his welcome.
Mr Campbell-Ross was standing in the lift, his bag on the floor by his feet.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Derrick shut the apartment door with a single thought twisting up his insides – he’d blown it. A porter didn’t keep one of the directors of the Ross Corporation waiting, even if that director had taken a sabbatical after losing his wife. He’d be back, of that Derrick had no doubt. He cast one last glance back at the apartment. How could he not when he’d be returning to that?
Derrick joined Mr Campbell-Ross in the lift and held out his hand to give him back the plastic key card, praying he was not going to lose his job for outstaying his welcome. He didn’t really believe that would happen. If there was one thing he’d learnt while working for the Rosses, it was that despite their immense wealth, they were the kindest, most decent, most loyal people he’d met – besides his own mum. He sincerely hoped he’d be working for them for years and years to come.
