by Nina Kaye
‘I don’t know. But I’ve pushed myself so hard. I’m ambitious and I knew if I couldn’t fulfil that urge, it would make me unhappy.’
‘Which proves once again that you’ve thought all this through.’
‘Yes, but why couldn’t I be happy just having a good job? Why did I need the leadership programme? And the band? What if adding all of that has caused this? The gig was on Saturday and now look at me. I just need to accept that I can’t do everything I want to do.’
Emmanuel takes my hand in hers, which could feel weird with her being my boss, but surprisingly it doesn’t.
‘Alex, please listen to me. You’re panicking and you’re jumping to conclusions. You told me just yesterday, after the team event, that the singing was really good for you because it made you so happy and it gave you energy. You felt “almost unstoppable”, you said. You were also pleased with how the group task and your presentation to the CEO went – despite the fact you were obviously under par, as I now realise – and you had to deal with Danielle being so difficult. All these things were positives until this happened.’
I know she’s right. I’ve U-turned dramatically since things went south this morning; but I have good reason. There will be no place for me in the band or on the leadership programme if I can’t be there to take part. Someone else should have the opportunity. Someone more reliable.
‘Have you spoken to Matt yet?’ Emmanuel asks.
‘We’re not together any more.’
‘Oh? He hasn’t broken up with you because of this, has he?’
‘No.’ I stare at the floor miserably. ‘I was lying to him. He would have walked when he found out anyway.’
‘Alex. You have this all worked out in your head. But you’re making decisions for other people without letting them make their own choices.’
‘Better that than him telling me it’s over.’ I shrug.
‘Look, I understand, I really do. But if this man is half the person you’ve described to me, he may not react in the way you’re assuming.’
‘He will, believe me, I’ve seen it before. Doesn’t matter how good a person he is. My ex, Dom, went all weird over it and it finished us. Matt’s got the perfect excuse: he can’t trust me. He doesn’t even have to admit it’s because of my MS. Wouldn’t blame him one bit.’
Emmanuel exhales heavily. ‘All right, this is your choice. But at least think it through. Promise me that.’
‘OK, I promise.’
I know full well I’m going to do nothing of the sort. Matt’s had a lucky escape, just like Dom. He may not know it right now, but he’ll be better off without me.
My phone buzzes beside me on the bed. I pick it up, seeing it’s from an unknown number, and read the message on my screen.
Your secret is out. Knew you were a fraud.
‘What the…’ I stare in horror at the words on the screen.
‘Alex? What is it?’
I look at Emmanuel vacantly, then come to. ‘It’s…an anonymous message. What did you tell the team about me being off today?’
‘I told them you were unwell.’
‘That’s all?’
‘Absolutely. Alex, why are you asking this? What does this message say?’
I hand the phone to Emmanuel, now shaking with panic. She reads the message, her face grave.
‘Do you have any idea who sent this?’
‘I… can hazard a guess. Danielle.’
Emmanuel looks thoughtful, then pulls out her work phone, looks something up and studies the two phones side by side. ‘You’re right. I have her number in my phone for the business continuity call tree.’ She hands my phone back to me.
‘But, how does she know? How can she know?’
‘I can think of only one way. But it may be hard to prove.’
‘How?’
‘She’s got a friend in HR. But by sharing the information, her friend would be putting her career at risk. I do wonder if she’d be willing to do that.’
A thought comes to me. ‘This friend in HR. Is she tall, slim, blond?’
‘That’s her. Have you met her?’
‘I had an unfortunate run-in with the two of them one day on the canal bridge. She certainly didn’t come across well.’
‘That may well be the source of the leak then. Alex, leave this with me. This is very serious indeed.’
I’m still shaking, but anger has begun to flare inside me. ‘Wait. She hasn’t said anything specific. We don’t have proof that she knows anything. I’m going to reply and ask what she knows.’
‘All right, I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ Emmanuel informs me, and leaves my side.
I’m physically exhausted and my mind is foggy, but some of my determination has returned. If Danielle has accessed this information through her friend, the pair of them must be stopped before they out me to the whole company. I slowly tap out a message and hit send.
Who is this? What is it you think you know about me?
I’m distracted waiting for a response from Danielle. If I have her worked out the way I think I do, she won’t be able to resist the chance to try to demolish me. A minute or so later, I receive a reply. I’m right.
That you’re a charity case. Got your job through some special scheme. That’s why you get special treatment. Now everyone knows you’re a fraud.
I’ve got the evidence I need, but all I can focus on is the last line of the message. Everyone knows? That means it’s too late. She’s destroyed my reputation. The inner trembling intensifies and I battle the urge to cry at everything falling down around me. I should never have faced up to her yesterday; it made her want revenge: a dangerous thing with a personality like Danielle’s.
Emmanuel re-enters the room and her face tells me what she’s about to say before she can say a word.
‘It’s gone public.’
She gives a pained nod. ‘I’ve just spoken with one of my managerial counterparts. It seems a WhatsApp group was set up earlier today from an anonymous number – not Danielle’s. It contains information about your medical situation and how you were hired into the organisation.’
I feel like I’m about to pass out. ‘Who was it sent to?’
‘All of our team – except me – and about twenty other members of staff across the organisation. One of them forwarded it to my colleague out of concern.’
‘Shit. Shit. This can’t be happening. Sorry for swearing.’
‘Alex, swear all you like. This is beyond what I ever thought Danielle to be capable of. I will do my very best to make sure she incurs the most serious consequences for this. Did you get a reply to your message?’
I hand her my phone and she reads Danielle’s reply.
‘But Emmanuel, if this turns into something huge and Danielle is disciplined or even fired, I will get the backlash. It might be seen as further proof that I get “special treatment”. I don’t… there’s no other option… I’m going to have to leave.’
At these words, Emmanuel looks like she’s about to go into orbit. ‘Alex, you are going nowhere. This lies firmly at Danielle’s door.’
‘It doesn’t matter. The information is still out there. Now my every move will be scrutinised and questioned. Nothing will ever be seen as a true achievement.’
‘That’s not true, Alex, and I think I can prove it.’ She picks up her phone again and unlocks it. ‘The person I spoke to sent me some screenshots. She kept them as evidence. Take a look.’
I take the phone from her. A series of screenshots show the original message – which is so cruel it makes me gasp, causing tears to well in my eyes once again – as well as the replies from various people. Every single one is condemning Danielle’s message, and expressing full support for me. I read one response after the next, saying how I’m one of the most talented project managers they’ve come across; how, if that’s what I’ve been up against, I deserve to be where I am more than anyone else; and how I’m a total inspiration. I become so completely overwhelmed by this tha
t the sobs come once more, this time so thick and fast that a passing nurse stops to check I’m all right.
Emmanuel sits with me quietly, allowing me to work through the jumble of emotions I’m feeling, until I’m calm enough to have a coherent conversation again.
‘Sorry.’ I’m embarrassed as I remember that this is my boss I’m with.
‘You have nothing to be sorry for, Alex.’ She stays and chats about lighter things for a while longer until it eventually dawns on me that she won’t have had anything to eat.
‘Emmanuel, it’s nearly seven p.m. You’ll need to get your dinner. Why don’t you head off and I’ll call you tomorrow once I’ve seen the consultant?’
‘All right. I am needing to see to a few things. I’m glad you’re feeling a bit calmer.’ She gets up from her chair. ‘I’ll come by tomorrow after work again.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’ I feel tremendously guilty that Emmanuel is having to fill the gap that would otherwise be filled by family or close friends.
‘Enough. I want to come and see you. And I could get some more things from your apartment – that is, if you’re happy for me to do that? We didn’t manage to pack much yesterday.’
‘Only if it’s not too much trouble.’
‘It’s not at all. I can nip there straight after work before coming here. It’s not much of a diversion.’
‘OK, sure. I’d really appreciate having my iPad. Maybe some more comfortable clothes. Also, my toiletries bag in the bathroom is the one I use when I swim. It’s got everything I need in it.’
‘Not a problem. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Chin up. This will pass.’ She gives my hand a squeeze, before heading out of the ward.
Once she’s gone, it’s not long before unhelpful thoughts start to plague me. Danielle has really messed things up. Though I seem to have everyone’s support, they’re all going to see me differently now, probably even treat me differently. While this huge worry is taking up space in my mind, a big bubble of sadness is also competing for space. My career has been compromised, but Matt’s gone from my life for good. Memories of our time together flood my mind: our first date; the walk in the woods; all the other amazing meals out and nights in since. The way he kissed me, his touch, those eyes. Now, all gone as if it never happened. It’s all too much to bear. I pick up my phone and dial Sasha.
* * *
I have very little sleep overnight: partly due to the constant noise of the ward and in part because of the vast feeling of emptiness that’s been gnawing at me since my break-up with Matt. I’m also very worried about how long it’s going to take me to get back on my feet and how I’m going to manage on my own once I’m discharged from hospital.
I’m taken for my MRI scan around nine a.m. and then delivered back to the ward. The exhaustion finally overcomes me, and I sleep into the early afternoon. I’m not long awake and am picking at my lunch when a petite middle-aged woman with long dark hair pulled into a ponytail enters the room.
‘Alex? Good afternoon, I’m Dr Kasani. How are you feeling today?’
‘Much the same, unfortunately,’ I reply.
‘Can you tell me what happened yesterday? And a bit more about what symptoms you’ve been experiencing?’
I give her a comprehensive run-down, which she listens to intently. She’s very focused. There’s no peripheral chat.
‘Do you mind if I do some physical checks?’ she asks once I’m done.
‘Of course.’
She performs the same tests I experienced while in hospital in Glasgow and several times after that during my outpatient appointments. Some of it is painfully difficult given my current predicament.
‘OK, Alex,’ she says eventually. ‘I think I’ve put you through enough for now. I have good news for you.’
‘Oh?’
‘From reviewing your MRI scan and listening to your description of your symptoms, I do not think that this is a relapse.’
‘What?’ I look at her in confusion. ‘If it’s not a relapse, what is wrong with me? Because this is not normal.’
‘You have a viral infection – probably one of the winter bugs that’s doing the rounds – which, I believe, has exacerbated your existing symptoms.’
‘Are… you sure? I can’t get out of bed. I can barely move. And I don’t really have a sore throat or anything.’
‘I am quite sure. These viruses come in many guises. You are running a fever, so my guess is a flu-like illness. Your MRI scan also shows no change from the last one. All this suggests to me this is not a relapse.’
‘So, once the virus runs its course, I’ll be OK?’
‘I expect you will be back to how you are normally. But it might take a couple of weeks. You must also contact your doctor if you do not recover in this timeframe, but I would be very surprised if this were the case.’
As I take all this in, it’s like I’ve been handed my life back. ‘Thank you, Doctor. You’ve no idea how good this news is.’
‘I have delivered this message many times over, so I have a fair idea.’ She gives me a warm smile. ‘We are going to keep you in for two to three nights to monitor your progress. I would also like you to see our occupational therapy department while you are here. My understanding is that you do not have a care plan in place. Creating one will help you cope better when a similar situation arises in the future.’
‘That’s fine. One thing I like in life is an effective plan.’
‘I will get that organised then and hopefully the unit will see you tomorrow. I will also arrange for you to have the annual flu vaccination to reduce the risk of these events in the future. A serious flu can trigger a relapse, so we wish to avoid that where possible.’
‘Sure. Thank you. I think the doctor in Glasgow did mention that but I must have forgotten about it.’
‘It is a lot to take in when you are newly diagnosed. Now, please can I ask you to have a think about who might be able to offer you some support? We cannot discharge you until we know you have someone to help you manage, or that you can manage yourself; you are a bit away from that. I will pop by tomorrow to see how you are getting on.’
Dr Kasani lifts the folder at the end of my bed and scribbles down some notes, then gives me a quick nod and moves to the bed two down from mine for her next patient consultation.
I lie back and close my eyes, letting the reality of the situation sink in. It’s not a relapse. Hopefully it means I can get back to work in a couple of weeks, rather than a few months as I had first feared. But my positivity is short-lived as the other developments of the last twenty-four hours creep back into my consciousness. With Danielle having stuck the knife in and given it a damn good twist, what kind of work environment will I be going back to? One like it was back in Glasgow? Emmanuel won’t remove me from my role, I’m confident about that. But what about everyone else?
And that’s just work. I’ll no longer have Matt to brighten my evenings and weekends – or the band. Wonderful, gorgeous Matt. With whom I now realise, without doubt, I have fallen completely in love. An empty, sick feeling develops in the pit of my stomach.
To take my mind off my broken heart, I decide to update Emmanuel on my situation. I send her a text instead of calling, just in case she’s in the middle of something. She replies quickly.
Sorry, in a meeting but that’s great news. See you in a few hours. E
With that done and nothing else to focus on, I close my eyes once again in the hope that sleep will come and rescue me.
Chapter 33
A couple of hours later, I’m wakened by a bustle of activity, signalling the start of visiting hours. Feeling groggy and not yet switched on, I don’t see the person approaching until they’re standing right at the foot of my bed. I look up and gasp.
‘Matt?’
‘Hey there,’ he replies softly.
‘What are you… how did you…?’
I instinctively swipe at my mouth to make sure I haven’t drooled in my sleep, then try to sit up.
But I do it too quickly and immediately receive a stark warning from the lead weight that is my body.
‘Don’t try to get up. I’ll come to you.’ Matt moves round the bed and takes a seat beside me.
It’s so good to see his face, but I’m totally confused as to what’s happening.
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘I went to your apartment after work because I couldn’t get my head around why you called things off like that. No real explanation – and by text message. I wanted to hear it face to face but then your boss answered. She told me you were here.’
I swallow nervously. ‘Did she tell you why I’m here?’
‘No. She said that was for you to share. But she did say there was something I needed to hear. Alex, what’s going on? Why are you in a neurology ward?’
I blink through stinging, glassy eyes. ‘Because… oh, this is so hard…’ I take a deep breath and bite the bullet. ‘I have MS, Matt. I woke up yesterday really unwell and I thought it was a relapse, but it’s a viral infection that’s caused my symptoms to flare up.’
‘Right. Shit.’ Matt hangs his head, taking this in. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I wanted to. Actually, that’s not true. I didn’t want to. At first, when we were casually dating, it felt too soon to mention it. We barely knew each other. But when things got more serious between us, I knew I had left it too long. I nearly brought it up when I told you about Dom at the weekend.’
‘You said then you had a couple of things you needed to talk to me about. But you only mentioned him.’
‘I knew it would change things, probably end our relationship, so I bottled it.’
Matt lifts his gaze to meet mine and my stomach squirms nervously in response. It’s almost unbearable. I can’t take his pity, his expression of sympathy as he makes his excuses.
‘You thought I’d walk away.’
I wring my hands anxiously. ‘Yes. But I wouldn’t blame you. Who would want to sign up for a lifetime with someone this broken? With all the complications and limitations that it brings. Who wants to commit to that?’