Tied to You

Relief

I wake to the incessant ringing of my doorbell. I fling on my robe before opening the door to find a courier standing there, holding a stack of packages. "Ms Walker?" he asks. I nod and sign for my parcels before heading back into my flat. My tiny studio is sparse; the escalation of my mother's disease and mounting costs for her care has directly correlated with the slow selling off of my worldly goods and the downsizing of my living arrangements.

I leave the parcels on the table and then head over to the cupboard that houses the little kitchenette area. I pop the kettle on and make myself a cup of tea before sitting down to open the packages. The first box contains a smartphone, all shiny and new compared with the completely basic phone that I own. There is no note attached, but I assume that this is from Alex. After all, who else would be sending me things?

I plug the phone in to charge before turning my attention to a large flat box. When I finally pull out the contents, I find myself holding a small laptop and I guess it is one of those Chromebook computers that seem to be all the rage at the moment. Not sure if it needs charging as well, I plug the computer in and then turn my attention to the third and final package. Seconds later and I am holding the manuscript in my hands along with a handwritten note from Alex:

Dear Olivia,

As promised here is your manuscript. I trust that you will still honour our arrangement. We can discuss p*****t separately.

The laptop and phone are encrypted, so please ensure that you use them for all communication between us. You will find my details already stored on both devices, and I have set up a new email account for you.

I have emailed you a copy of the prenuptial agreement that I have drawn up. If you are happy with the terms, you can sign it electronically and email it back.

Any questions, just drop me an email.

All the best,

Alex

The note is impersonal and business-like, which suits me fine. This is a business arrangement, after all. I sip on my tea as I wait for the laptop to load. When the home screen is finally up, I click on the email icon and then open up the email that is waiting for me.

I read through the attached document, my brain swimming as I try to read between the lines of 'legalese'. As I understand it, the contract states that if we remain married for a full year, Alex will take care of all my debts and my mother's care for the year that we are together and I will get a payout of a million pounds when we divorce. What surprises me most is the caveat about 'extramarital relations'. It appears that I am perfectly fine to have a lover as long as I am discreet. Okay, I hadn't even thought about that. It also states that Alex will also be able to make his visits to his 'club', though I am not sure what that means. Maybe this lifestyle thing is a secret society or something equally obscure. I find myself grinning as my imagination conjures up an image of hooded men exchanging strange handshakes in a darkened room lined with sconces.

I spend some time chewing over the document as I finish my cup of tea, trying to figure out the source of my unease. It is not the idea of being able to have another relationship whilst being married; I will be fine…it's not like I am not used to being on my own, but a year is a long time for a guy to go without, I guess. No, it is the idea of the payoff at the end. With trembling fingers, I reach for the new phone, find Alex's direct line and hit dial. I am relieved when he answers after a couple of rings.

"Good morning, Olivia," says Alex smoothly. I wonder how the hell he knows it is me, but then I realise he has already programmed his number, so it stands to reason he knows mine.

"Morning, Alex. Are you okay to chat for a couple of minutes? I don't want to interrupt your day," I ask. Inwardly I am cursing the tremble that I hear in my voice, the nerves making themselves apparent.

"Sure thing. I guess you have had a chance to read through the document?" Alex asks, his voice calm and even, as if he is completely unaffected by the deal we are about to strike.

"Yes. And thank you for the phone and laptop, by the way. You didn't need to," I say, still feeling a little weirded out by Alex's generosity. There was no need to have sent over what must be top-of-the-line gadgets; basic models would have certainly done me.

"Actually I did. I need to know that our conversations are secure. I can't risk this kind of information getting out. So what can I help you with?" asks Alex.

"Um, the payoff…the million pounds…I don't want it!" I blurt, anxiety flooding me.

For a moment, there is silence. "You don't want the money?" Alex sounds incredulous.

"No, look, I appreciate your helping with my mother's care and looking after me during the year we are married, but there is no need for anything else. Really, I don't want it. It is not something I will have earned." I can hear my voice rising, but I try my best to control my emotions.

"Believe me, you will have earned it by the end of the year," Alex retorts, his voice hard and firm.

"Even so, Alex. I don't feel comfortable with taking that kind of money. Please…I am happy to agree to everything else, but could you take that point out?" I request, and I hate myself when I hear the quaver in my voice. I don't want to beg, but damn it, I will if I have to. This is just not something I will compromise on.

With a sigh, Alex acquiesces and promises me that a new version will be sent out within the hour. When I put the phone down, it immediately rings again and, puzzled by the unknown number showing on the screen along with the uncertainty of who would actually have this number, I answer with a cautious, "Hello?"

I am beyond surprised when the director of the care facility introduces herself, and my stomach twists into knots as I wait for her to start talking about chucking my mother out. Instead, she starts gushing about the very generous donation that my fiancé has made to the facility. That, combined with the news that my mother has now been moved to a superior room with a view of the garden, already prepaid for the coming year, brings silent tears to my eyes. It would seem that Alex has already been very busy this morning.

When I finally get off the phone, I break down with the relief that my mother is going to be okay. I sob loudly, letting out all the stress and tension that I have been keeping locked up tight. The crying is cathartic, and by the time my tears start to dry up, I finally feel something haven't for a very long time…hope.