Trilemma by Jennifer Mortimer Page A

“I’m hoping to find the time to do a hike.”
    â€œTramp,” says Tom.
    â€œPardon me?”
    â€œWe call it tramping, not hiking.”
    â€œI’d like to do a—whatever.”
    We move away and into the path of a platter of small fritters. “Whitebait,” says the waitress. Eight hands reach in, octopuslike, to secure a fritter. They are white and soft. So are the fritters.
    â€œWhere are the rest of the women, Tom? I thought New Zealand was full of senior-level women?”
    â€œThey’re still running half the Government departments, but since Tania left Kiwicom there are fewer senior women running the tech companies. Jane Kelly from VNL is over by the bar, the blond woman talking with Scott. She’s keen to meet you.”
    I gaze across the room at our lead consultant and his companion. So he’s in bed with VNL, just what I should have expected.
    â€œYour new friend will, of course, try to persuade you to go with LCNS.”
    â€œLuke? He’s with LCNS?”
    â€œDirector of sales.”
    Huh. Conflict of interest. Damn.
    The laughter has grown loud as the guests avail themselves of the free wine. The men start talking about rugby, and then about the property market. I smile politely and nod in the rightplaces. Eventually, the room empties out of the senior people, only the juniors and the freeloaders remain, settling in to drink the free booze as long as possible.
    Tom checks his cell phone and tells me he needs to be home in time to watch the fireworks display, so shall we go?
    I am barely inside the apartment when my telephone rings.
    â€œHello? This is Lin Mere.”
    â€œI want to eat your pussy.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI want to eat your pussy!” the female voice repeats.
    I slam down the handset.
    Well, that was a first. A dirty phone call from a woman.
    Typical. If a woman is single and in a position of power, there’s always the assumption that she must be like a man and therefore a lesbian.
    As I gaze at the telephone handset, I wonder who she was and why she thought she could just ring a stranger and speak like that. My guise of being Caesar’s wife is still in place. Why would anyone think I was interested in sex?
    The telephone rings again.
    â€œHello?” I say, tentatively. “This is Lin.”
    â€œIt’s me.”
    The skies explode and I drop the phone. Outside, fireworks commemorating Guy Fawkes have started with three balls of gold that splatter into myriad fragments before my eyes.
    I retrieve the phone. “Ben.”
    â€œEmmy showed me your e-mail. How are you?”
    The skies now fill with multiple silver flares.
    â€œFine.”
    Multiple skyrockets bursting into stars of many colors.
    Ben is silent. The shreds of light fall down into the sea.
    â€œI hadn’t heard from you,” he says. “As far as I knew, we were finished.”
    More balls of golden fire, exploding into red hearts that evaporate, just like they do in real life.
    â€œYou didn’t make any contact, Ben. You made no effort at all.”
    â€œI think it was up to you, Lin, to make an effort. It was you who slept with whatshisname.”
    Green lights, yellow lights, red lights.
    â€œI did make the effort! I came all the way to New Zealand!”
    â€œNo doubt you came down here at whatshisname’s call, Lin, for your brilliant new job!”
    Lights are now exploding all over the sky.
    I regain control of myself. “Don’t throw that back at me, Ben. Robert offered me the job after I got here. So. What did you call me for anyway? Do you want something?”
    â€œNo, I don’t want anything! Just to set things straight with you.”
    â€œConsider them set straight.”
    The explosions continue to dance in front of my eyes, blurred now. It is too much. I switch off the phone and put the handset back on the table, blink my eyes clear, and watch the fireworks without seeing a