obvious that Ben Bailey was a clever man; there were lots of fancy-looking books on his shelves. Most of them looked as if they’d actually been read, too, not like when you visit some people’s homes and you can tell it’s all for show. He didn’t have a single photo on display, not one. She still sometimes wonders what he did to push everyone around him so far away that he seemed to be completely alone in the world. But she tried her hardest not to think ill of the man; he had helped her in ways she had never previously dared dream possible.
The planning had to be meticulous: one mistake and the game would have been over before it ever began. It was so hard keeping it all to herself the whole time, but she knew she couldn’t tell anyone what she was doing if she wanted the plan to work. And Ben Bailey couldn’t tell a soul either.
He’d lost his job.
Gross misconduct the letter on his desk had said. She felt bad reading it, as though she were intruding during that first visit to his house. But then she figured he’d left it out knowing it would be read, as though he wanted her to see it. She’d googled gross misconduct when she got home that night; she had felt embarrassed to not really know what it meant. She didn’t enjoy feeling as if she knew less than other people just because she didn’t have a fancy education and hadn’t been to university.
Maggie had worked hard for everything she had; she might not have a degree, but she was smart in ways that couldn’t be learned in any school. Anything she didn’t understand, she taught herself, with the help of the internet.
Gross misconduct is behavior, on the part of an employee, that is so bad that it destroys the employer/employee relationship.
The definition reminded her of Aimee straightaway. Aimee had behaved badly and destroyed their relationship. Aimee and Ben were both guilty of gross misconduct in Maggie’s eyes, the only difference being that Ben had been punished for his behavior, and Aimee had got away scot-free. Until now.
Maggie couldn’t stop thinking about Ben Bailey those first few days; it was like an obsession, and she wanted to know everything about him. She visited the building where he had worked as a journalist and took one of his shirts home with her after her second visit to his house. She wore it in bed that night, thinking about him and everything he was going to help her do to teach Aimee a lesson she’d never forget.
Maggie puts down her knife and fork, feeling very uncomfortable now that she has eaten everything on her plate. She should not have ordered rice and chips. She turns off the television, disappointed that there was no mention of Aimee or Ben, and makes a mental note to watch the later bulletin on a different channel, hoping they might have better news judgment.
When she cannot wait any longer, she walks to the bathroom and vomits up her dinner. All of it. Thanks to the gastric band, she doesn’t even have to stick her fingers down her throat. She feels much better afterwards. She knows she can’t eat a big meal like that anymore, but she did it anyway. It’s okay to sometimes do the wrong thing in life, so long as you accept the consequences, that’s what Maggie believes. You do something bad, you pay the price, them’s the rules. Maggie has done some very bad things, but she doesn’t regret any of them, not a single one.
Fifty
London, 2017
I sit on the lower bunk inside the cell and don’t touch a thing. I’ve done some bad things in my life, so perhaps I deserve to be locked away. Maybe this is where I belong: a place where I might finally fit. There is no clock on the gray walls, I have no idea what time it is or what happens next, so all I can do is wait.
I wait a long time.
The light through the tiny, barred window diminishes, until the cell is almost completely dark. I close my eyes and try to shut it all out, switch myself off. I perform an exorcism of the truth and a curfew of the mind, and it works, for a little while at least. I’m exhausted but I daren’t sleep, and when I hear the jingle of a set of keys outside the door, I don’t move.