The bitch was trying to psych me out and not for the first time.
‘I’m not worried,’ I said. God, why did she have to be so thoroughly unpleasant? I saw Amelia suddenly snap to attention. She started furiously typing. Oliver must have arrived. If he ever spotted you with nothing to do, he made a point of lumbering you with some shitty menial task just to make a point. I followed Amelia’s lead and pretended to check my voice mail.
‘Morning ladies,’ Oliver said, sweeping past in a cloud of expensive cologne and stale cigarettes. ‘Amelia, be a love and bring me a coffee.’
She shot daggers at me. Okay, this was new. Hopefully, it was a good sign.
The next hour crawled by. Finally, the hands on the big wall clock slotted into position. It was ten o’clock. I took a deep breath – Come on Daisy, girl. I pushed my chair back from my desk and nervously straightened my skirt, smoothing it down so it sat flattened against my thighs. I took another deep breath and then, ignoring Amelia, poked my head into Oliver’s office.
Oliver was behind his desk, deep in conversation with Judith, the HR director, who was sitting in the chair next to him. I rapped on the door and they both fell silent.
‘Ah, Daisy here you are,’ he said after a beat. ‘Please sit.’
I slid into a chair opposite them and put on my most confident smile, which admittedly faltered somewhat when neither of them returned it.
‘So…’ Oliver said, sharing a glance with Judith that I couldn’t quite interpret. My stomach fluttered. The mood in the room felt tense.
He cleared his throat. ‘Thank you for joining us this morning.’
Oliver saying thank you. Damn, something was definitely up.
‘You should know that we’ve been extremely pleased with your work over the last year, Daisy,’ he continued.
I let out a whoosh of air that I wasn’t even aware I’d been holding and settled back into my chair. This was more like it.
Oliver droned on as if unaware that the suspense was killing me. I smiled encouragingly, thinking, Spit it out, you old windbag.
‘It’s really brought home the need for us as a company to be more digitally focused. And that’s why we’ve decided to hire a full-time digital marketing manager.’
Oh wow. It was really happening!
‘Unfortunately, and you must believe me when I say that this is not a decision we’ve taken lightly by any means, have we, Judith?’
Judith shook her head, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Wait what, unfortunately? That didn’t sound good. I suddenly realised I’d lost track of what Oliver was saying. I refocused.
‘Unfortunately,’ there was that word again, ‘this means that your admin role is no longer available.’
Oh God, was he saying what I thought he was saying?
‘And the manager role?’ I heard myself say over the pounding in my ears.
Oliver paused then nodded. ‘We’ve decided the new role should be filled by someone with a little more…experience.’
‘Oh,’ I said as no other response sprang to mind.
‘Oliver’s brother-in-law has a degree in marketing,’ Judith piped up. She was one of those people who always felt the need to fill an uncomfortable silence. ‘We’re lucky to get him, actually.’
Oliver shot her an impatient look. He definitely hadn’t wanted me to have that information, seemed like the game had been rigged the whole time. As usual, I was the last one to know.
‘Daisy,’ he said, ‘I’m afraid this means we’re letting you go.’
‘But you just said I’ve been doing a good job,’ I whispered.
‘Well, surely you didn’t expect…’ Oliver ran out of words and looked askance at Judith.
He couldn’t be so oblivious to other people’s feelings as to think I wouldn’t be blindsided by this. No, he knew all right. He was just trying to shift the blame, make it look like I was the one being unreasonable. The coward.
My face went bright red, my eyes welling up with tears. This was not how I saw the day panning out. Oliver sighed. Growing impatient with the whole ordeal, he dropped any pretence of empathy like it was hot.
‘Now then, Daisy, this was always meant to be a temporary position. You knew that from the start. I would say you’ve done rather better out of it than you first expected.’
I opened my mouth, but Oliver didn’t give me a chance to speak. ‘Judith, would you like to wrap this up?’ he said, taking advantage of my inability to form a coherent sentence. Wrap this up! The bastard.
‘Certainly. Daisy, as you have been here a little under two years and are on a temporary contract, we are not legally obliged to make any redundancy payments.’ Oh God, I hadn’t even thought of that. ‘However, as a goodwill gesture,’ she said, not looking me in the eye, ‘we’re pleased to offer you one month’s pay in lieu of notice.’
‘Starting from when?’ I asked, my head spinning.
‘Well,’ Judith said, looking a little put out, ‘from now, I’m afraid.’
Six
The train journey home passed in a blur. To be treated like that after I had half killed myself for them over the last year. To be humiliated and escorted out of the building like some kind of criminal, tracked by Amelia’s smirking face.
I would have to tell everyone. Mum, Phil, Phil’s family. Oh God, I thought about Frannie patronisingly patting my knee in the pub over the weekend. ‘Good for you,’ she’d said when I told her about my, it turned out, imaginary promotion. My face burned with embarrassment.
I hadn’t realised until this point just how high I had built my hopes up. I wondered how long they’d been stringing me along for. It had been foolish of me to imagine I’d ever be hired for such a job. Of course, I could try to find something else, but no one in their right mind was going to hand me the kind of role I’d set my heart on. All anyone would see on my CV was that I’d been temping. I wouldn’t even get through the front door. A tear trickled down my cheek. I swiped it away, determined not to start crying on the tube.
I tried to phone Phil, desperate to hear a friendly voice. His phone rang a few times and then went through to his voice mail. I hung up without leaving a message and spent the rest of the journey staring out of the window, trying not to dissolve into tears.
The rocking motion of the train felt strangely soothing and by the time I got to my station I felt a lot calmer, although numb might be a better way of putting it. Suddenly I wasn’t sure I wanted to speak to Phil at all. I knew that he’d want to help, but I also knew what he’d really be thinking: I told you so, silly Goose.
As I rounded the corner onto our street, I saw Phil’s car in the driveway. My heart lifted. He was home early for some reason. All of a sudden, I desperately wanted to see him. Didn’t matter if he said the wrong thing. All I wanted was someone on my side, someone who loved me, someone to wrap me in a bear hug and tell me that everything was going to be okay. And if he also threatened to key Oliver’s car, well, I was all right with that too.
At the front door, I fumbled in my oversized handbag. My keys made a bid for freedom, but I finally got a grip on them, pulled them out and unlocked the door.
I stepped into the hallway, ready to call out Phil’s name – I didn’t want to give him a fright – when I heard his voice rumbling up the hall. Damn, he must be on the phone. Then my chest froze. I could hear a woman’s voice too. They were laughing.
Oh God, I’d have recognised that braying laugh anywhere. What was Frannie doing here? Then my stomach dropped into my stilettos because I had a pretty good idea. More rustling and giggling from down the hall. I clapped my hand over my mouth as my mind finally caught up with what my eyes were seeing.
They were at the foot of the stairs. Frannie had a foot up on my new coffee table, two arms around Phil’s waist, and her tongue down my boyfriend’s throat. Neither of them had noticed me yet. My brain i
nvoluntarily zoomed in on the situation. Now Frannie’s hand was down the front of Phil’s good blue suit. The one he must have put on this morning, especially for her. She started to unbutton it in a frenzy, tugging at his belt with her other hand.
I took a step down the hallway on legs that felt like stilts. This couldn’t be happening. Only it was. My legs buckled and I slumped against the wall with a distinct thud. That got their attention all right.
‘Daisy!’ Phil said, his eyes wide with shock. He pushed Frannie away and she stumbled back, hurriedly rearranging her clothing. Then she turned and fled to the sitting room. My sitting room. ‘Daisy, what are you doing home?’
A hot flush bloomed prickling heat across my body. My throat felt like it was closing up. I took a step back. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out of the house. Away from them.
‘Daisy, just wait.’ But I couldn’t. The world had descended into a red mist. All I could see was Frannie, her back arched, Phil’s hands around her waist, dry humping her hand like a randy teenager. I needed to put as much distance as possible between this ugly spectacle and me.
I found myself with my handbag slung over my shoulder, halfway down our front path, with no memory of getting there.
‘Daisy, wait, you’re being ridiculous.’
I spun around. ‘How could you?’ I tried to say, but my mouth refused to cooperate, flapping uselessly.
‘I’m sorry, Daisy. Babe, please, I’m so sorry, just come back in the house. Let’s talk about this.’
As if I could go back inside with Frannie still holed up in there. I backed up the path, glowering at Phil, who was still standing on the doorstep, his shirt untucked, his hair awry.
‘Goose, come back inside, you’re making a show.’
At last, the spell seemed to break and I crashed through the gate, stumbling out onto the street. I glanced back once. Frannie’s face appeared behind Phil’s shoulder. Both stared back at me as if I was the intruder.
‘For Christ’s sake, just let her go,’ Frannie said.
I walked to the end of our street in a daze. At the corner, I looked back briefly. Phil and Frannie were now in a heated exchange on the doorstep. They appeared to have forgotten about me. She was waving her arms furiously. He seemed to be angry as hell.
I turned the corner in total shock. That was when my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. I chose flight. I turned another corner. Then another.
Seven
My feet moved blindly, stilettos clacking on the gum-spotted pavement of the high street. It was busy, people chattering as they walked along, cars beeping in either direction. A jackhammer drill thudded close by, adding to the cacophony. There was no way I could think straight.
The sun suddenly slipped behind a cloud and I shivered. Even though it was hot, my hands felt like ice. Dizzy, I sank down onto a nearby bench. Just as well it was there; otherwise I would have fallen on my bottom. In which case, I think I would have just curled up into a ball on the pavement. This was London, so everyone would just step over me and carry on with their day.
In one fell swoop, I had no job, no boyfriend, and no home. The flat was in Phil’s name, bought and paid for. I had no lasting claim on it. For the first time in years I wanted my mum. Terror welled up inside me, blocking off all rational thought. I couldn’t go back, that much was clear. But I didn’t have anywhere else to go.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have friends. Other than Ruby, I mean. I did. Looking back, though, I hadn’t realised until now that Phil could be quite controlling in terms of my friendships outside his circle. There was never any yelling as such, but I was worn down by the constant low-level complaints when Phil took a dislike to someone, which was often. At the time I would have called you a liar if you’d suggested that letting those friendships drift wasn’t my own decision. But it was starting to dawn on me that I may have been deluding myself about lots of things.
How many acquaintances had I let slip over the years to avoid a scene? I realised how isolated I’d become as a result. With Ruby away, there was certainly no one I could think of to turn to right now.
I put my head in my hands. No one stopped to help or ask if I was okay, which was probably a blessing. One kind word and I’d be done. A bawling mess, howling on the high street.
Inside my handbag my phone began to vibrate. I removed it with ice-cold hands. It was Phil, but there was no way I could talk to him. I doubted I could utter a single word at that moment. Finally, it stopped ringing. A moment later, a new message notification popped up. I listened to it numbly. It was Phil begging me to come home. In the background, I could hear Frannie. She was still there.
I dropped the phone like it had morphed into a venomous spider. It landed in my handbag and I zipped the bag shut, shuddering at the image.
Above me, the sky went a shade darker. An ominous rumble came from somewhere in the distance. Oh great, just to really top off my day, it’s going to start raining. I’d barely completed the thought when the heavens did in fact open, slinging down sheets of sooty rain. My hair turned instantly into a straggling mess that would dry in bouffant curls. Not that I cared.
I looked around for somewhere to shelter. Without realising it, my feet had taken me on a familiar route. I was back, once again, at the train station. Where I’d started out, what felt like a century ago, at the beginning of this awful, never-ending, groundhog day of nightmare proportions.
I dashed across the road and into the station. Shaking off the rain, I wondered what to do next. My phone vibrated again. I didn’t let it go to voicemail this time. Instead I hesitated for a moment and then switched it off.
I walked towards the ticket barriers in a daze, swiped my Oyster card and got on the first train I saw. I just needed to sit for a while. Somewhere out of the rain, where no one would pay me any attention. Where better to be ignored than the London Underground? The unwritten rule: no eye contact, no unsolicited conversation—except for to-bloody-day of course.
Several stops in, a rowdy group of men rolled onto the train. They wore assorted costumes and were swigging from large cans of beer. For reasons best known to himself, one of them was wearing a naughty nurse outfit and aggressively waving around a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs. Oh Christ, now they were singing. The doors slid shut. It was too late for me to get off. Who the hell were these people? It was Monday afternoon for heaven’s sake.
‘All right, darling?’ the burly nurse said, planting himself next to me. I couldn’t deal with this right now. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping he’d get the message and go away. Nope. I gripped the seat and ignored him as best I could.
‘Smile, love,’ he said, breathing beer and garlic fumes into my face. ‘It might never happen.’
I made a strange hiccupping sound, and it gave me a certain amount of perverse gratification when, like some sort of stop-motion puppet, his expression slipped from leering to confused to uncomfortable shock. Serves you right, arsehole, I had time to think venomously before I let out a loud, guttural wail.
The train was suddenly silent. In slow motion, everyone turned to look at me. One of the men said, ‘Darren, what did you do?’
Now I was full-on weeping, tears, snot and mascara sliding down my face. Darren tried to apologise, which set me off on another crying jag. Maybe I was laughing hysterically at the same time. It was very hard to tell.
A tense thirty seconds later, the train pulled into the next station. I stumbled onto an unfamiliar platform. As the doors slid shut, I heard a burst of laughter coming from the train behind me.
I was blinded by tears, red with embarrassment. This was a nightmare. Mortifying. People were staring at me with open concern, as if one of them might actually come over and ask me if I was okay. Unacceptable!
I fled up a flight of stairs, across an enclosed bridge that led to an open-air platform. A train sat idling. I darted through the doors just as they began
to slide shut.
Relieved to see that the carriage was empty, I collapsed into a seat. Wiping my nose on the sleeve of my new shirt, I stared off into space, trying to get my breathing under control. The train pulled out of the station. I had no idea where it was going. Nor did I care.
I pressed my face against the window and watched concrete and tower blocks streaming by. The train seemed to be travelling along some sort of cross country line. It didn’t seem to be stopping anywhere. Another station whizzed by. I felt a tinge of anxiety as concrete turned to suburbs and then fields and rolling hills dotted with fluffy sheep.
I shut my eyes, just for a moment. Leaning my forehead against the glass, exhaustion overwhelmed me and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
‘Excuse me, miss.’ Someone touched me lightly on the arm. I came to with a snort. A man in a train manager’s uniform apologised. ‘You have to wake up,’ he said, ‘this is the end of the line.’
Oh shit. I sat up blearily, rubbing my eyes.
‘Where are we?’
‘Upper Finlay.’
‘Huh?’
‘Are you okay?’
I forced my face into a semblance of a smile.
‘Peachy,’ I said and stumbled off the train.
Eight
‘You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Daisy,’ I muttered to myself. I must have looked a right state. As predicted, my hair had gone into a riot of wild curls, and I still had on my stupid skirt suit. Somewhere along the line, just to add insult to injury, I’d also managed to ladder my tights beyond repair. My legs looked like two snakes trying to shed their skins. Luckily, by this stage I was way past caring.
That said, I was a little ashamed of myself. The last few hours were a blank, punctuated by mortifying incidents. I would have expected to deal with something like this calmly, rationally. Not like some hysterical, out-of-control maniac.
I winced, remembering my breakdown on the train. I think I might have been in some kind of fugue state. Like one of those people you read about in trashy thrillers who murders someone and then doesn’t remember doing it.
Daisy Does it Herself Page 3