by Eve Redstone

Created on: November 09, 2008   Last Updated: November 26, 2011

Mary pressed the button to open the window to the chauffeur, "Just here, on the left Jones. Take me right up to the door. The valet will direct you where to go after that. Mind you let them know who you're driving. You should get a good meal from the kitchen."

Mary settled back and enjoyed the ride. These moments alone in the back of her limousine were the only ones where she could truly relax. Even if she had no-one with her she had to be careful all the time. One never knew where a camera might be lurking, one never knew. Even in her own home she had to send the maids around checking the curtains before she changed for dinner, and then she had to check the curtains in case one of the maids had been bribed.

The big iron gateway appeared on the left and Jones slowed and turned into the drive. The tyres whispered up the incline and the country club came into view. Still the same imposing white columned building she remembered from her childhood. The lawns were fresh and green, not a blade of grass out of place. Even the flowers seemed to have been groomed to face in the right direction for optimal viewing.

Jones pulled under the portico and Mary quickly checked her hair and make-up. Perfect, flawless, not a single hair out of place, not even an eyelash. Mary took a deep breath and told Jones to open her door. She stepped out into a blaze of camera flashes. Mary looked to neither the left or the right but she was pleased. People would want to know why she was here, and they would dig until they found out. This time she wanted them to.

The air seemed cleaner up here, richer, but she knew that was an illusion, the air stank up here. She wanted this to be over quickly. Doors opened as if by magic as she made her way through to the manager's office. She knew there were staff behind them but she didn't acknowledge them as she strode ahead. She stepped smartly up to the manager's office and opened the door herself, stepping inside.

Mr Dempsey gave a little start, though in all honesty he must have been expecting her. "Hello, Mr Dempsey."

"Hello, Mary."

"Oh, I think you know I'm not Mary to you any more Mr Dempsey."

"Sorry, Ms. Jamieson, how can I help you?"

"You know that too Mr Dempsey, I'll give you ten minutes and then I expect you to be gone. The new manager will be here in half an hour and I want you well away before then. I'll need the keys to your apartment. Any personal items will be forwarded to your mother's address...or the police."

"Ten minutes, can't we talk?"

"No, Mr Dempsey, we had our last conversation after my sisters death fifteen years ago. You wouldn't admit what you did then and we were just poor white trash. Well time has passed and now I'm the one with power over your job. I don't want the favours you forced from my sister, I want you gone. Leave."

Mr Dempsey walked past her, hands gripped tight in rage. "You haven't heard the last from me, you can't do this."

"I seem to recall that's what I said to you Mr Dempsey, fifteen years ago."

"What will you tell people? The board? My neighbours?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. I hope the press will do my dirty work for me. Good-bye."

Mary watched his retreating back. A cold sense of satisfaction came over her. She picked up the phone and pressed the connection to the kitchen,

"Mother, this is Mary, he's gone. Has Jones had his dinner? I think when he's finished and I've settled the new manager in me and you will go to the cemetery, tell Julia that we got him, we got him at last."

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