Bare All

by L M Allen

  “Thanks for coming in, Eva. I’ll speak to you again tomorrow.”

  “Speak then.”

  I leave Glenn’s office at almost 08:00 p.m. and make my way to the train station on foot, rather than by Tube. I could do with a walk.

  I cut down side streets and alleyways. Cobblestones and paving stones. Delicious smells waft past me from the many restaurants and eateries along the way, and I realise I haven’t eaten a thing today. That’s not going to help with the throwing up, is it? my head snipes.

  By 08:35 p.m. I’m sat on the train that will take me back to my station, and pick up the discarded newspaper on the seat beside me. That rational part of my brain is fully aware of what I’m doing. I’m not giving myself a chance to think. Or feel. What’s the point anyway? And I read every word I can, until my station is announced. When I fold it closed and then in half, I can’t remember a single syllable of what the hell I just read. But it doesn’t matter. That wasn’t the objective.

  I push open Mum’s front door with leaden arms. “Hey, Mum,” I call quietly, hoping Summer is fast asleep. It’s late.

  “In the kitchen.” I follow her clipped tone, and she’s sitting at the table, her fingers laced together in a fist so tight they’ve gone white.

  “You okay? Is Summer okay?” I put my bag on the floor and pull out a chair when she nods.

  “You’re my daughter, and I love you... but Gary, Eva?” she blurts as I sit opposite her. I freeze.

  “What?” I breathe.

  “Gary! How could you! How could you do that to Bells! To Will!”

  “Mum... I didn’t...”

  “Maria has been crying down the phone to me for hours. When she wasn’t screaming at me. Bells is in bits. She’s five months pregnant, Eva! What the hell were you thinking!”

  There really is no point trying to explain. I learnt that the hard way. The painful way. She’s already made up her mind. My own mother thinks her daughter is that kind of person. Of all the people in the world, she should know who I am.

  I drop my eyes, unable to look at her, and just wait. Wait for her to stop yelling. Stop crying. Stop accusing, and when she’s quiet for long enough that I’m pretty sure she’s done, I simply pick up my bag and stand. I go collect Summer from her bed and load her into the car without another word. What is there to say to a woman who isn’t listening? Who shouldn’t have to fucking ask?

  Nothing at all.

  My heartbeat hurts. Breathing hurts. My body and mind are wound so tight I feel strained. Restrained. My hands are tied. It doesn’t matter what I say or do. Every one of them believes that. That!

  Keep moving forward. Keep moving. If you sit still for too long, you’ll be vulnerable. Get to safety first.

  ***

  “Muma, I don’t feel good,” Summer groans as she stumbles into my bedroom around 06:30 a.m. the following morning and immediately throws up, all over the carpet.

  Great. Thanks.

  “It’s okay, sweet pea.” I lift her and walk her to the bathroom quickly, depositing her in front of the toilet just in time for the next round of vomit.

  When she’s done, I encourage her to rinse her mouth and brush her teeth, before I lay her back in bed. Her skin is clammy and pale. She looks so small. I hate it when she’s ill. I’d take it from her ten times over rather than see her suffer. If only that’s how it worked!

  I perch beside her and stroke her hair until she’s asleep, and then make my way to the kitchen for cleaning materials, and a beaker of water that I leave by Summer’s bed.

  I check on Summer once more, before I go back downstairs after cleaning up my carpet. Then I call preschool to let them know Summer is sick.

  Next, I email Claire, asking her to go into the office and cancel anything in my diary for the next couple of days. Then, I email Glenn to let him know I’ll be working from home today. I’m not ready to see Mum again just yet. Not even for Summer. “Okay,” I take a breath and psych myself up for another day.

  God, I miss coffee.

  Around ten, I make my way upstairs to check in on Summer. She’s awake.

  “Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” I swing the door wide and wander over to her bedside.

  “Hungwy.”

  “Yeah?” She nods, half-enthusiastically. “Just toast then, monkey. If you can keep that down, I’ll consider expansions at dinner time.” I run my hand over her soft blonde hair and lean in to drop a kiss on her head. Her temp feels better.

  “Okway, Muma.” She nods and scratches her nose.

  “You can stay in bed, if you want, or we can bring your duvet downstairs?”

  “Can we watch a fiym?”

  “A film?” Oh, God, I have so much to do. “Sure. What do you want to watch?”

  “You can chowse.”

  “Come on, then.” I give her a smile and flip back the duvet, so that she can climb out, and scoop it up into my arms. “Let’s get you cosy on the sofa, and I’ll make the toast.”

  We watched Mary Poppins. Classic. I absolutely loved that film as a kid, and when Summer jumped up from the sofa to sing and dance along with Dick and Julie, it was confirmed that she’s feeling better. “Come on, Muma!” she squeals, and tugs at my hands until I’m on my feet for a rendition of “Step In Time.”

  When my mobile rings, I excuse myself, while she prances around my kitchen broom, and glance at the screen. Glenn.

  “Hi, Glenn,” I puff.

  “Good morning. Is this a good time?”

  “Yeah. Yes! I was just playing with my daughter. Did you speak to your wife?”

  “I did. And I’ve spoken with the staff this morning. We’re all agreed that it’s a good idea in principle. Of course, we’d need to hash out some details.”

  “Of course.” Yes! At last! Something...

  “Do you have a lawyer?” Good.

  “Um, no, actually. The guy I would usually use is...” Blaming me for his marriage troubles? “...unavailable. But I’ll call another one.”

  “Great. If you want to get that sorted on your end, and let me know when we can meet up, I’m very keen to have this all straightened out ASAP, for the staff. They have mortgages to pay.”

  “Of course. I’ll come back to you as soon as I can. I have a very full diary and no way of keeping all my appointments, so I’m just as keen as you are.”

  “Great. I’ll leave it with you, and hope to speak later.”

  “Okay, thanks, Glenn.”

  I hang up and immediately Google corporate lawyers. Within the hour, I’m perched on the edge of the dining table with the kitchen door pushed half-closed, wincing at the quotes. “Holy shit!” I mutter as I hang up with the third extortionist. “Daylight fucking robbery.”

  I need to get the lawyer situation sorted, so I’m going to have to bite the bullet. But, really? Five hundred quid per bloody hour? I pull up another site and scan the legal waffle, as I reach for the freezer with my other hand, and fumble blindly for the tub of ice cream.

  I tap ‘contact us’ and tap again when my phone pulls it through to dial.

  “Hello, JC Law. How can I help you?”

  “Hello. I’m looking for a corporate lawyer to help with a takeover of a company’s staff and books. Is that something you can do?”

  “Can I take your name, please?”

  “Eva Adams.” I sit, bracing for the price.

  “What business are you in, Ms Adams?”

  “Events.”

  The lady on the phone gasps. “As in, E:Vents?”

  “Yeesss?”

  “Oh! My goodness! I have your card! I was at your Easter event with my son. He hasn’t stopped talking about it.”

  “Oh! Wow. Really?”

  “I actually called you yesterday, but your receptionist said you weren’t available.” Well, this isn’t how I expected this conversation to go. At all.

  “I’m home with my daughter. She’s sick...” It’s half-true.

  “And you’re expanding?”

&nb
sp; “Kind of. Hopefully. Is that something you can help with?”

  “Oh! Yes! Definitely.” I’m pretty sure she’s nodding. I can hear her hair rubbing against the receiver. “I run a very new firm, Ms Adams, and we were hoping to speak with you about some kind of event, but yes, I can help you with the legal work.”

  “And...how much do you charge?”

  “Well...” she says slowly, and my face crunches into a grimace. “If you’re willing to organise an event for us, we can offset the costs for you. But to give you a rough idea, we charge £200 per hour, or I can offer you a flat rate of £500 for the day, which is eight hours.”

  “Oh.” I sag in relief. “That’s great. How soon can you squeeze me in? It’s time-sensitive. The guy is retiring to New Zealand.”

  “Tomorrow morning? I can do first thing at 08:00 a.m.?”

  “Right. Pencil it in, and I’ll confirm with Glenn. You have my office address on the card?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Great. Let me just make sure that time works for everyone, and I’ll get back to you. Can I take your email, please?”

  “I’ll send you over a welcome packet and you can reply to that with as much detail as you have.”

  “Okay.” I breathe out long and slow again. “Thank you.” And I eye the melting tub of ice cream.

  Chapter 8

  The following morning, I settle back in my chair and wait for Glenn’s lawyer to read through and okay the amendments to the legal paperwork and contracts. He nods his approval, and Glenn smiles widely as he reaches for a fountain pen in his breast pocket and signs with a flourish. He winks at Summer, who’s seated beside me colouring a picture of an elephant purple.

  “Well, Eva. That was easy. I think my guys are going to get along with you just fine.”

  “I hope so.” I give him a relieved but apprehensive smile, and look across at Jacqui for anything else we need to do. I can’t believe it! I now have a whole company of staff and have just taken over twenty years’ worth of ongoing contracts in a few hours. Of course, it isn’t guaranteed they’ll continue to use E:Vents, but with the introduction Glenn has agreed to send out and the mixer party I’ll arrange, there’s a bloody good chance.

  “That’s it. So, when do you meet your new employees?” Jacqui asks as she gathers up her paperwork into a smart, leather, zip-up folder.

  “After lunch.”

  “They can’t wait, Eva.” I throw Glenn a glance. He smiles knowingly. “They know the deal though. They’re all on a probationary contract, until the dust settles and you can see who works well where. I assumed that’s what you’d do.”

  “Thanks.” I smile. “I’m glad that won’t be a shock.”

  “But office space? What are you going to do? I’m sorry I couldn’t extend my lease.”

  “It’s okay. The top floor here has been available since we originally moved in. I’m going to see it in about...” I glance at the time. “...twenty minutes.”

  “You’ve got it all covered.” Glenn smiles kindly as he rises and reaches out a hand to shake mine. “I expected nothing less.” He extends the same hand to Summer, and if I’m not mistaken, is a little surprised when she takes it. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Summer. I hope you feel better.”

  “I’m good.” She shrugs and goes back to colouring, and Glenn smiles at me.

  “She’s fine now, thanks. Preschool has a forty-eight-hour rule for sickness bugs.”

  When Summer and I have said our goodbyes (she’s really enjoying being Muma for the day—God only knows why), I take her hand and lead her to the lift, ready for our viewing.

  “...The company is very busy. So, we need a bigger office for all the new staff...” I continue explaining, as we disembark into the centre of the open-plan office space, which is basically a glass box with desks. The manager is already waiting.

  “Eva.” She smiles warmly, but I have no idea what her name is. “Glad things are going so well for you and E:Vents.”

  “Yeah.” If only you knew. “Thanks.”

  “And who is this?” She smiles in a way that says she’s not really keen on kids.

  Summer gasps and rushes right up to the far-end window, pressing her hands and nose flat against the glass. “Sorry!” I mouth at the manager.

  “Muma! I can see The Shard!”

  “That’s Summer. She’s helping me out today.”

  “Hmm.” She straightens out the distaste on her face and launches into the spiel. “So, room for twenty employees with an additional corner office. You’re looking at six hundred square feet of open-plan potential.” She gives me a winning smile. “Lots of natural light, and it comes fully furnished. As with your current office, all the bills are included. Including fibre broadband.”

  “And the price?” She hands me a card with a number written on the back. I raise my eyes to hers slowly, choosing my words carefully.

  “This place has been empty for how long?” She hesitates.

  “Since January 2015,” she admits, almost bitterly.

  “And that surprises you?” The words fall out before I can stop them. It seems my patience has just run out. The manager snaps her mouth shut, and my irritation bubbles. “Look. It’s an office. No one’s here for the view. It’s a space to work. I doubt anyone will even notice it. We are standing in a filthy, deserted roof space at the top of a converted warehouse. There’s still metal sheeting on the supporting beams, the furniture is falling apart, the floor looks like it was probably laid by the original builders, and you want me to pay how much for it? No. I’m good. Thanks anyway.”

  “Eva, listen.” The manager giggles in a nervous twitter. “I take your point, but this office is worth much more than I’m charging.”

  “Not to me.” I shrug. That is literally more than my entire new staffing bill.

  “Okay. So, how about we negotiate?”

  “I’m listening.”

  After half an hour of hashing things out, I eye the manager dubiously. “Cleaned up, decorated, new furniture, new floor, all before the end of the month for a three-year lease paid upfront, at the new amount, with working access to the kitchens?” I confirm.

  “Yes.” I can see her holding her breath. Hmm.

  I extend a hand.

  “Deal.” She shakes it with an almost trembling grasp. She looks like she’s having a bad day. Well, I’m a bloody expert on those recently. I’ll go for the small wins wherever I can. Or a fairly big, less-than-half-price win, in this case.

  “Can we gwet lunch now, pease?” Summer asks.

  “Yes, sweet pea. Let’s go eat. Thank you,” I tell the manager again. “Can you email me the new contract, please? We have a busy afternoon.”

  “We’re meeting the new stuff,” Summer tells the manager importantly.

  “Staff. We’re meeting the new staff.”

  “That’s what I said.” I give her a look, and she giggles. She knows she’s not really in trouble.

  The rooftop terrace café is literally just across a landing and up a ramp from here. It’ll be handy for the coffee run. Summer dashes off to choose a booth and leaves me in the lunch queue. It’s the kind of five minutes of peace I’ve come to loathe. Will is in there. And Bells, and Gary, and all the other people I thought loved me. Who I wish I could stop loving. I pull out my phone and check the weather, just for something to do. We’re forecasted bright sunshine for the whole day. Funny, feels like rain to me.

  “Can we see Mae tonight?” Summer asks as she negotiates a forkful of beans and jacket potato to her mouth. The stab of pain is sharper than I thought it’d be.

  Mae.

  “Umm...” I clear my throat, but the lump won’t budge. “I...don’t think so. We’re going to be really busy here today. We might be late.” Summer gives me a pouty face, and I change tack. “Besides, we could go to a nice restaurant for dinner while we’re in town...We’ve had a big day.” Her face lights up, and she starts talking options at me while I smile and nod, and try to eat some of th
e sandwich I bought. There’s nothing wrong with it, but it tastes like cardboard to me.

  I drop the half-eaten sandwich back onto the plate and pick at the salad instead, as Summer eats so fast you’d be forgiven for thinking she hadn’t eaten breakfast and two snacks already today.

  “That was quick!” I observe as she chases the last two beans around her otherwise empty plate with her fork.

  She nods and spears them instead, one at a time. When she looks up at me, she has an orange moustache and a cheeky grin, and I’m suddenly so grateful for my girl.

  “I love you, sweet pea.” She is my own little sunshine. I think I’d be at the bottom of a six-foot hole by now without her.

  “I luff yow twoo.” She picks up her napkin and tries to wipe her face, but just ends up smearing the bean sauce further. I chuckle and jerk my head towards the ladies, before pushing the chair back and standing. Summer hops up and takes my hand, and we go prepare to meet fifteen new members of E:Vents’s staff.

  ***

  I stand beside Glenn as he introduces me, Summer clutching my hand sweaty tight, with seventeen pairs of eyes assessing me, including Glenn and Jacqui. “So, over to you, Eva.”

  “Thank you.” Crap! I’m supposed to give a bloody speech? “Hi, everyone. I’m not going to stand here and make some huge speech. Glenn tells me that you guys already know what’s going on, so there’s no point in me repeating it. I just wanted to come over to meet you, say hi, and to let you know how things will progress from here: You will continue to work on whatever contracts you have. The clients, as you know, will continue to be looked after by E:Vents going forward. The lease on this place...” I indicate the office around us. “...is due to expire at the end of July?” I look at Glenn, and he nods. “I’ve just agreed to the lease of new office space in Covent Garden. You are free to move across at any point, once it’s been released to me. I’ll let you know when, and I will share the calendar with you, so that you can start working on the ongoing clients from my end too. It would help me to know who’s free, and who’s working on what. If you’d like to introduce yourselves?” Phew! That didn’t come out as the jumbled mess I was dreading.

  One by one, my new members of staff stand up and give me a brief overview of their roles and clients, and with helpful insights whispered from Glenn, I get a sense of how much they have to do and who can handle what. It pulls me up short when two women identify themselves as ‘the catering department,’ but I smile and nod along anyway. Adapt or die, Eva. Adapt or die.