by Jane Fallon
29
When I get home from Dee’s I bump into Hattie coming out of the living room. I’m so surprised I don’t say anything other than ‘Oh, hello’.
‘Hi,’ she says with a big smile. ‘Sorry, I was looking for Smokey. I’ve been in for ages and I haven’t seen him so I thought you might have accidentally shut him in there …’
It’s possible. I’ve done it before, because he likes to cram himself in between the armchair and the wall, and there’s no way of knowing he’s there without checking. ‘Right. Had I?’
‘I can’t see him. He’s probably under one of the beds.’
I probably should say something, remind her that the living room is out of bounds but, on the other hand, if I really had shut my cat in there away from his food and water, wouldn’t I want her to look for him? So I keep quiet.
‘How was your day?’ she says. I think she realizes I’m a bit pissed off with her. I feel bad, so I go overboard with a big smile, which is probably even more frightening.
‘Great, thanks. Yours?’
‘Yeah, good. Actually, I’m just on my way out. I should …’ She indicates her room, and I take it to mean she needs to get ready.
‘Sure. Have fun,’ I say.
‘Oh.’ She turns back just as I’m about to walk off. ‘Sorry I haven’t paid this month’s rent in yet. I completely forgot. Can you believe it’s been that long since I moved in?’
I hadn’t even noticed. Some landlady I am. ‘No problem,’ I say. ‘Do it when you can.’
I head into the kitchen. Smokey hops down from one of the chairs to greet me. Stretches sleepily. ‘He’s here,’ I shout.
She sticks her head round the door. ‘Oh, right. Maybe he just came in.’
Once she’s left I go into the living room. I can’t help but look round to see if she’s left her mark. A dent in a sofa cushion or a ring on the coffee table where she’s placed a glass of wine. I don’t want to have to start worrying that she’s taken to invading my private space when I’m not there. I’m relieved to see there’s no evidence. Even so, I resolve to put a lock on the door. I’ll just have to make sure I really don’t shut Smokey in there by mistake when I go out.
Roz is in the studio again, and Emma is back so Lorraine is with her, which gives me a chance to talk to Juliet without too much scrutiny. I ask her to bring a set of scripts to my office, just for Joe and Emma’s benefit, and then we proceed to talk about anything but. She’s rocking the mum jeans and low court shoes again today, with some kind of silk scarf arrangement round her neck. I automatically bank the details to share with Roz before I remember that’s not me any more.
‘Do you remember when she first started mentioning Hugh?’ I ask when I’ve filled her in. Like me she gasped when she heard the bit about Hugh being married to someone else and having twins. I don’t know why out of the whole story that feels like the most shocking part.
She thinks for a moment. ‘No. She was always an appalling show-off. I do know that when she announced they were getting married it didn’t feel like a surprise, so she must have been talking about him for a while by then. And there was at least a year of regaling us all with the preparations.’
I remember that part. When I arrived the wedding planning was in full swing. Juliet and Roz have been here the longest of all of us. Since the beginning. Then Emma and then, I realize, me. ‘So probably most of the time she’s been here then?’
She nods. ‘I would say so.’
‘Was she vile to you from the beginning?’
She considers for a moment, as if she’s trying to make sure she gives as honest an answer as possible. ‘The show was only twice a week at the beginning, and there were only the two of us editors. I don’t know if it was insecurity or what, but I think she wanted to create some kind of rivalry between us. I was all gung ho, thinking we were all in it together. It was exciting. But it became pretty obvious right away that her way of making herself look good was to try and make me look bad. That’s a long way of saying yes. From the beginning.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, as if it was my fault, but what I’m really saying sorry for is the fact that I joined Roz’s team so unquestioningly.
‘Did they find out anything else?’ she says. ‘Anything useful?’
I let out a sigh. ‘Nothing.’
She hooks a piece of hair behind an ear. ‘How long now till your probation is up?’
‘Two and a bit weeks.’
She stands. ‘She seems to be behaving now. She’s probably given up.’
I don’t think so. Roz is acting like we’re friends. Like everything is OK. But I don’t believe it. We know too much about each other. ‘I doubt it. I think she’s keeping me onside until she can hit me with something big. People like her don’t give up that easily.’
I feel as if someone has handed me a ticking time bomb, with no instructions on how to defuse it. I have two weeks to learn which wire is which. And I have to make sure I cut the correct one.
30
‘Of course, if she’s really that crazy she could still try and get you sacked even after your title is made official,’ Dee says helpfully. We’re walking to Golders Hill Park. Dee has lured me there with the promise of the tiny outdoor zoo with its donkeys and lemurs. The attraction for her clearly being the seven-thousand-odd steps it’ll take us to get there and back. It’s a beautiful day. The promised heatwave has suddenly arrived fully formed. It’s just a shame I forgot to take any Piriton because I’m punctuating my walking with sneezing.
‘Thanks. That makes me feel a whole lot better.’
She looks at me defiantly. ‘What? I’m just stating a fact.’
She’s right of course. In a way. ‘Once I have a proper contract it gets much more complicated though. There would have to be warnings and hearings. She’d really have to prove I’d done something irredeemable.’
‘I suppose.’
‘I’m sure she’ll look for another job if I survive my probation. There’s no way she’ll want to stay and work under me.’
Dee laughs. ‘She’ll probably ask you for a reference.’
‘Good luck with that,’ I say, sidestepping an old lady hunched over a walking frame.
We stomp on along the path at the edge of the heath, me puffing as it climbs uphill. ‘She’s on holiday next week, so that’s something.’
Dee looks at me. She’s not even breaking a sweat. ‘That’s fantastic. That’s fifty per cent of her opportunity gone. Where’s she supposed to be going?’
‘I heard her telling Lorraine she and Hugh were off to Positano but it’s anyone’s guess. Maybe she really is going there but on her own, or with a friend.’
We emerge from the path back on to the pavement. ‘Do you think she has friends?’ Dee says.
I consider this for a moment. Outgoing, show-off Roz. The life and soul of the party. ‘Yes. She must have. She’s out practically every night.’
Dee raises her eyebrows at me. At least, I think she does. Her fringe has got so long it’s hard to tell.
‘What?’ I say.
‘We could check them out. Me and Gav.’
‘No, Dee. There’s no point. Nothing we find out about her personal life is going to help get rid of her. I just have to hope I get through my trial period and she resigns. It’s two weeks. One if you count her holiday.’
Dee looks unconvinced. ‘It seems crazy not to try everything when you know she’s still gunning for you.’
I shrug. ‘The only thing that would help at this point would be if I could prove it was her doing all those things to me all along. And we both know that’s not going to happen.’
‘Even more reason to explore every avenue.’
We turn into the gates of the park. ‘Let’s get a coffee,’ I say, spotting the little café. I’ve never been here before and now I wonder why. It’s a beautiful ordered oasis set against the wildness of the heath and, despite the warm day, it’s quiet. A few people with dogs on leads, a couple with th
eir two children. There are more squirrels than humans, it seems.
Dee knows me well enough that she picks up immediately that I’ve exhausted the topic of Roz. I can’t allow her to occupy my mind all the time or I won’t be able to do my job properly and then she’ll win by default. I’m grateful for the change of subject.
‘How’s Ashley getting on?’
‘Not great. She’s struggling, I think. Panicking about whether she’s doing the right thing, and how she’s going to manage.’ I remember that feeling well. Veering from excitement about the baby to absolute terror that I’d ruined my life. I remember watching a young mum struggle with a screaming baby and a heavy basket of shopping in the queue at Sainsbury’s when I was pregnant, and all the other waiting customers tutting and glaring at her. I let her go ahead of me and she was so tearfully grateful it terrified me. Was this what I’d signed up for?
‘Can’t you persuade her to move home?’
I’ve thought about it. Telling Hattie she would have to move out when her six months was up. Having my daughter safe under my roof where I could take care of her. But I remember the pressure my mum put on me when I was in Ashley’s situation. How feeling as if I was disappointing her just added to my worries. ‘She said she doesn’t want to. I don’t want to push it. You know what she’s like, she’s always been independent.’
‘I wonder who she gets that from,’ Dee says, giving me a one-armed hug. We order two skinny lattes from the young girl behind the counter.
‘It’s not the life I wanted for her.’ As soon as I say it I realize it’s a stupid thing to say. Ashley’s life is Ashley’s life. She has to work out for herself what she wants.
‘Would you go back and change things in your own if you could?’
I don’t even need to think about the answer. ‘Of course not.’
‘Well, there you go then.’
I suddenly realize how insensitive I’m being. All Dee’s wanted for the past God knows how many years is to get pregnant and she’s finally had to accept that that’s never going to happen.
‘You’re right. Of course you’re right.’
‘She’ll be OK,’ she says, picking up her coffee and then putting it down again quickly. ‘Ouch.’ She finds two cardboard sleeves and places the cups in them, hands me mine. ‘It must be scary for her, that’s all. To suddenly decide she’s doing it on her own.’
‘Ryan has sent her one text. Let me know if there’s anything I’m supposed to be doing. Dick.’
‘We should feel sorry for him. He’ll wake up one day and realize he has a teenage child he barely knows and he’s fucked up royally.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ I say.
Work without Roz is a joy. I’m not looking over my shoulder all the time watching out for what she might do next. I don’t feel as if I’m being scrutinized. My every move analysed. My failings noted. The department seems lighter, all the tension gone. Even Lorraine makes an effort with the rest of us, although I see she draws the line at Juliet.
‘Where did Roz go in the end? I forgot to ask her,’ I say to her at the start of the department meeting. I’m interested to hear what Roz told her, whether she’s spun her the ‘me and Hugh have split up’ sob story yet.
‘The Amalfi coast. One of Hugh’s clients has a villa down there. He’s lent it to them.’
‘Dare we ask who?’ Glen looks up from his phone.
‘Oh,’ Lorraine says, looking caught out. ‘I’m not sure. I didn’t ask.’
I find that hard to believe. Lorraine asks Roz questions with the zeal of a quiz show host. It’s as if she’s studying her as her specialist subject on Mastermind.
When the meeting wraps up Lorraine shadows me towards my office. ‘It’s David Summers’s villa,’ she hisses in my ear. ‘I didn’t think I was allowed to say.’
‘Oh God, no, well done,’ I say, trying not to laugh. I wonder what David Summers would think if he knew he had such a starring role in Roz’s fantasies, but I’m guessing he has more important things on his mind at the moment.
For the first time since I was promoted I can throw myself into work without any distractions. I’m sharper. I have more ideas. This is what it could be like if she left, I find myself thinking. Joe, who has kept his head down and got on with the job but in an increasingly isolated fashion, re-emerges from his shell and is back to being the funny, confident young man he seemed to be when he first started. Even Emma seems different. Less nervous. More self-assured. What’s fascinating is that the change is almost instant, too. As if just knowing Roz wasn’t going to walk through the door casting her critical eye over everyone, looking for flaws and weaknesses to make fun of at any moment, was enough.
‘Peaceful, isn’t it?’ Juliet says when we pass in the corridor.
‘Lovely,’ I reply with a smile.
By lunchtime I’m feeling relaxed. Positive. Roz won’t be back until Monday. My probation period officially ends on the Friday of next week. Five days. What’s the worst that can happen?
OK, so maybe the worst that can happen is that Glen calls me in to tell me that Patricia has been to see him to complain about the email I sent her.
I didn’t send her an email.
31
‘When was it sent?’
I don’t know if it confuses him that this is the first thing I say. He frowns slightly.
‘I didn’t ask her. She came up here in a fury so I assume she’d only just received it. Holly, what is going on?’
‘I need to know when it was sent. Not when she got it. When it was sent.’
‘You don’t want to explain yourself first?’ Glen has adopted his steely look. Gone is the slightly vague, benevolent ageing smoothie. I realize I need to take a step back.
‘I didn’t email her. Obviously. I don’t even know what it says …’
He consults a piece of paper. I assume a copy of the email. The time and date it was sent must be on there and I have to resist grabbing it out of his hand.
‘ “Patricia,” ’ Glen reads. ‘ “I absolutely loved that black dress you wore to the Soap Awards. It made you look two stone lighter and, dare I say it, almost feminine. You must let me know where you bought it. Might it have been in the tent section of a camping shop?” ’
I snort. I can’t help it. It’s so ludicrous it’s almost funny. Except that it isn’t. Does he really think I would send something like that? It has Roz written all over it. But Roz is in Italy. ‘I’m sorry for laughing,’ I say when he remains stony-faced. ‘But you honestly can’t think that came from me. Could I look at it, please? It might have the date and time on there.’
I hold my hand out but he keeps hold of the paper, looking at the top right hand corner. ‘Today at eleven-oh-three.’
‘OK. Well, I don’t know who did it but someone must have gone on to my computer.’ I try to think where I was at three minutes past eleven. I mean, I was in my office all morning but could I have been in the loo or making a coffee? It’s possible. I’ve done both things. But it feels as if it would have been very risky for someone to have gone in there knowing I was only out of the way for a few minutes. The logical suspect is Lorraine. I imagine she’d do pretty much anything Roz asked her to do. But there’s no way she could get away with sitting at my desk and using my computer in front of the others. Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t know my password. Only Emma knows my password now.
Could it be her? Sweet helpful Emma? I dismiss the thought the second it enters my head. Imagine thinking that Paddington Bear had stabbed your grandmother. And laughed while he was doing it. It’s about as likely as that.
Glen breaks my thought process. ‘Obviously Patricia is spitting blood. And who can blame her?’
‘Well, the first thing she needs to know is that it didn’t come from me.’ I have to remember what’s important here. Fight fires.
‘Are you really trying to tell me someone went on to your computer and sent this pretending it came from you? What, as a joke?’
/> ‘No. I mean, yes, but I don’t think it was a joke. I’ve had … There’s no point me even telling you because I can’t prove any of it. But this isn’t the first time it’s happened. That email you got from me that I said I meant to send to someone else … I didn’t send it at all. And what happened at the story conference …’
Glen sighs. ‘Is this Roz we’re talking about? I know there’s been something going on between the two of you.’
‘Yes. But if you ask her about it she’ll just deny it. And, like I say, I have no proof.’
‘And it clearly wasn’t her who emailed Patricia this morning …’ There’s a cynical note to his voice that makes me think he doesn’t believe any of it. That I might be the liar in all this. This is why I didn’t want to say anything to anyone until I could prove it. It all sounds so far-fetched. ‘I told you before you needed to sort out whatever your problem with Roz is. This is getting ridiculous now.’
‘I know. She did come and tell you that the thing about me hiding her script notes was all a big mix-up though, didn’t she?’
‘No. She didn’t. And to be honest I have much more pressing things to be worrying about than your playground squabble.’
So she was lying about that too. All this time I was thinking that at least we’d wiped the slate clean and all I had to watch out for was a new assault from her, Glen has still been under the impression that I’m the one in the wrong. I want to explain myself. Beg him to believe me over her. But I can tell that now is not the moment.
‘Will you speak to Patricia or should I?’
‘I think you should do it. It’s you she’s angry with. But for God’s sake don’t make the situation worse. I don’t want her thinking we’re all amateurs.’
I bite my tongue. The last thing I want to do is speak to her, but I know I have no choice. I need to put this right. I know that a lot of the cast don’t like Glen – or, at least, they don’t like the direction he’s taking the show in. The last thing I want is to be responsible for a mutiny, however indirectly.