Macbeth

The reflection of a haggard, old man stared back at Arthur from the bleary mirror in the lift. It seemed that he had aged twenty years since he ascended in it that morning, a spring in his step and a gleam in his eye, though he could not pinpoint exactly what was different. His suit was still debonair, and his white shirt was still crisp, but something had changed. The door swished open, and he stepped out into the lobby. It was already deserted except for Esperanza, the housekeeper. Her grey dreadlocks, held back in a colorful print scarf, bobbed as she mopped the floor, humming to herself. Her gold-capped smile faded as she looked at Arthur. She peered at him, gripping her mop in arthritic hands.

“Are you alright, Mr. Arthur? You sure don’t look good for a Friday evening. Have you been working late again?”

Arthur stared at her blankly for a moment before collecting his thoughts. He reached into his pocket and handed her his usual tip.

“I now know what thirty years of loyalty to a company gets you, Esperanza. Absolutely nothing. Old Ramsbottom is retiring at last. I have stayed for years now because his position was all but promised to me. What did he do instead? Brought his nephew Damian in. Whizz kid Damian, whom I am supposed to mentor into what should have been my place. It’s sheer bloody ingratitude.”

He stopped, flustered.

“I’m sorry, Esperanza. I forgot myself for a moment. Please don’t mind me.”

Esperanza gripped his arm with surprising strength and stared at him intently with shrewd dark eyes, no longer obsequious.

“You’re the only one here that has a friendly word for me, never mind a tip. I might as well be an insect for all the heed the rest of them pay me. I come from a long line of conjure women and I see many things. I usually keep my thoughts to myself, but I can tell you that you will get that position. Whether it will be in the way you hope for, I cannot say.”

She broke off and returned to her mopping as they heard footsteps. A young man in a fashionable business suit bounded down the stairs and crossed the lobby, oblivious to Esperanza’s clean floor. He was whistling.

“Damian,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

He forced a grin as Damian slapped him on the back.

“What are you still doing here, Arthur? Your wife’s going to be wondering where you are. Pretty cool that we’ll be working together, yeah? Have a good weekend.”

Arthur turned to speak to Esperanza, but she had disappeared. He sighed and went outside to hail a taxi.

He dropped his briefcase on the floor and blurted out the news as soon as he entered the house before his wife Gladys could say a word. After a moment of stunned silence, she launched into a furious monologue as he had expected. It gave him time to loosen his tie, kick off his shoes, and pour himself a whisky, something that Gladys never approved of.

“I am sorry to have disappointed you,” he said when she finally paused for breath, noticing that she was wearing her best dress and had had her hair done. He poured her a glass of whisky.

“Have this. I know you normally never partake, but I think it’s medicinal under the circumstances.”

Gladys took a large sip, coughed and shuddered. She sat down beside him on the couch.

“If it’s any consolation, Esperanza says I’m going to get the position,” he said, with his first smile of the evening.

“Who’s Esperanza? Oh, that Jamaican cleaning lady,” Gladys said. “Well, Ramsbottom is ancient, and everyone knows he has lots of medical problems. No one would be surprised if he keeled over.”

She gazed off into the distance as she gulped the rest of the whisky.

“And that nephew of his is wild. Don’t forget I play bridge with some of the directors’ wives and volunteer with that organization for young people recovering from substance abuse. I’ve heard the gossip. Drugs, fast cars, bad company…you name it. He could easily come to grief.”

Arthur frowned as he took her empty glass.

“My dear, that must be the whisky talking. This is disappointing but life goes on. I know he used drugs in the past, but he’s sober now. That’s another reason Ramsbottom has offered him the position.”

“It’s not fair,” she said. “They dangled that job in front of you like a carrot in front of a donkey. I hate them. You should do something about it. I wish you would stop being such a doormat, Arthur.”

“Never mind. Let’s go out for dinner, dear,” Arthur said. “You look very nice, and it will take our minds off things.”

Gladys allowed herself to be shepherded out but continued to harp on the injustice all evening. Arthur was exhausted by the time they returned home and happy to collapse into bed. When he woke in the morning, Gladys was gone. Relieved to have some peace and quiet, he made his coffee and sat down to read the newspaper. Absorbed in the latest cricket scores, he did not hear the front door open and jumped when Gladys slammed a basket of groceries on the table.

“How you can act like nothing is wrong is beyond me,” she said, angrily banging around. Arthur sighed and folded his paper. It was going to be a long weekend.

On Monday, there was an announcement in the office that there would be a reception at a fancy hotel on that Friday to make the official announcement of Ramsbottom’s retirement and Damian’s promotion.

“You mustn’t think I don’t appreciate your loyalty all these years,” Ramsbottom said to Arthur, wheezing and coughing. “You’ll get a nice salary increase, just not the title. Thing is that my sister and Damian are the only family I have, and she’d never forgive me if I don’t bring him in.”

“Of course,” Arthur said, stiffly. Damian had not shown any great interest in anything Arthur had to say about his job responsibilities, sauntering in late and rushing out early.

“Things to do, places to go,” he’d said breezily. “I’m sure I’ll pick it up quick enough when I have to.”

“You’d better watch your back, Arthur,” Gladys said. “Once Ramsbottom’s out of the way, what’s to say Damian won’t get rid of you too?”

Arthur was so used to tuning Gladys out, especially when she was in the throes of an obsession, that he did not notice that she dropped the subject of his promotion after that. Instead, he was relieved to see her getting ready on the evening of the reception. He had been dreading that she might refuse to go or even make a scene there.

“This must be Damian’s idea,” Arthur said, as they entered the elegant salon of the hotel.

 “Ramsbottom would never spend money like this.”

There was much raucous laughter coming from Damian and a group of young people around his own age at one end of the room. Arthur had never seen them before. His colleagues were circulating warily, chatting amongst themselves. Ramsbottom was sitting by himself, looking morose and lonely. He waved at Arthur and Gladys to approach.

“This whole shindig is foolish if you ask me,” he said. “But Damian says it’s important to present an image, whatever that means.”

A waiter proffered a tray of canapes. Ramsbottom nibbled on a vol au vent and began to choke. Arthur gingerly patted him on the back.

“Here,” said Gladys, rushing up with a glass of water.

Red-faced and breathless, the old man gratefully gulped it down

“Damned crumbs went the wrong way. Anyway, Damian’s going to make his speech any minute. Let’s get this nonsense over with.”

Damian rapped on a glass with his fork.

“Your attention, please. Thank you to everyone for coming. As you know, my uncle Theodore has devoted his life to building up this company and deserves a long and happy retirement. I am honored to be following in his footsteps to protect his legacy…”

“And what about you, Arthur?” muttered Gladys. “Don’t you even get a mention?”

Before Arthur could respond, Ramsbottom suddenly clutched at his chest and gagged, his eyes bulging. His arms flailed as he toppled out of his chair. There were gasps of horror.

“Call an ambulance,” Arthur yelled to one of the waiters who had frozen in place. “Everyone out!”

A period of frenetic activity ensued which ended with old Ramsbottom being carted out on a stretcher with paramedics frantically working on him. Arthur flopped into an armchair, shaking. He had no doubt that Ramsbottom was dead. He looked around for Gladys, but there was no sign of her. He headed for the lobby where the guests had congregated and were standing in shell-shocked groups, murmuring quietly. A couple of police officers had appeared and were taking names and contact information.

“What’s this?” said Damian. “I should be with my uncle. You can’t detain us as if we were criminals.”

“Sir, this is a very unexpected death,” said one of the police officers. “There will be an investigation and we must be able to reach everyone who is here. Please do not leave the hotel until we say so.”

Damian stalked off to rejoin his group of friends, yelling at the wait staff to keep serving drinks.

“Such an uncouth young man,” Gladys said, watching him. “Even with those expensive tastes. Do you know how much that suit of his cost?”

“Where have you been?” said Arthur. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I had to powder my nose,” Gladys said. “Can we go home now?”

She was sitting up reading when Arthur came to bed.

“It’s sad about old Ramsbottom, of course, but they’ll have to give you the job now.”

Arthur stared.

“Isn’t that a bit cold? The poor man’s not even buried yet. I didn’t want this to happen, and Damian will still take his place.”

Gladys shrugged.

“One of us must keep a level head. And to think women are accused of being sentimental. Damian doesn’t know or care about the business. It’s just a cash cow for him. His kind can always take care of themselves. You can’t start over again at your age.”

“Well, thanks for that vote of confidence,” said Arthur as he turned over. The person beside him looked like his wife of forty years, but he was beginning to wonder who she really was.

He was surprised to see Esperanza when he arrived at the office the following Monday. She usually only worked in the evenings, and she was wearing regular clothes instead of her cleaning overalls.

“Morning, Mr. Arthur,” she said. “I wanted to be the first to congratulate you, despite the sad news.”

“Congratulations? Why? What news?”

She frowned.

“You didn’t know? Mr. Ramsbottom's nephew died on Saturday. A drug overdose, they think. You’ll be taking Mr. Ramsbottom’s place, just as I said.”

She glanced at her watch.

“I’d better get going. I’m late for my day job.”

Arthur stared after her, dumbstruck. The rest of the day was a blur, but by the end of it, his nameplate sat on old Ramsbottom’s desk.

Gladys was busy when he returned home that evening, humming as she stirred some delicious smelling creation in the kitchen. He couldn’t remember the last time she had prepared a lavish meal. There was a linen cloth on the dining table and fresh flowers in vases around the room. She pulled off her apron and hugged him, another rare occurrence. They sat down at the table.

“Congratulations! The job couldn’t have gone to a better candidate.”

“How did you know?”

The day had been so busy that he hadn’t even thought about calling her.

“Let’s just say that Esperanza isn’t the only one with special powers.”

“Gladys, it can’t be a coincidence that Ramsbottom and Damian die within the same weekend. I’ve been thinking about it all day. Did you put something in that glass of water that you gave Ramsbottom?”

Gladys put a glass of wine in front of him and laughed.

“Of course not. He had a heart attack. It’s a shame he never got to enjoy his retirement. But when I looked at you and then I looked at that preening, obnoxious Damian, I knew I had to do something. Sort of like Lady Macbeth, but without the daggers and bloodstains and ghosts. She knew her husband wasn’t going to assert himself and so did I."

Arthur’s mouth was so dry that he could hardly speak.

“And …Damian?”

She smiled.

“I I learned a lot when I volunteered at that recovery program. The most dangerous time for an addict is when they relapse after a period of sobriety and their tolerance is low. I recognized a dealer lurking about in the hotel lobby and made sure he noticed Damian and his crowd. They were ripe for the picking.”

She patted Arthur’s hand.

“Why are you looking at me like that? He could have refused."

"And if he had?"

Gladys rubbed her chin and thought.

"A good question. I'd have had to think of something else. Would you like some more salad?"

Arthur put down his fork and pushed his chair back.

"No, thank you. I'm not very hungry after all."