She turned on her computer and waited while it clicked and whirred and played the triumphant four-note symphony that welcomed her to Windows. She opened up her email and scanned down the ninety-four messages that had arrived since last night. At the bottom, with a red exclamation mark beside it, was an email from Julia Swanson.
Must talk. Tried to catch you yesterday but you were in meetings all day. Wanted you to know that I’m seeing Stephen this morning to hand in my notice. Eeek. Lunch? Jules x
Stella wasn’t surprised it had come to this. Julia had been unprofessional and unwise and now she was paying for it. Yet the news made Stella feel unsettled. She didn’t really like Julia but neither did she want her to go, as without her there would be no other women in senior management to gossip with.
She typed:
God are you sure? That is terrible news (for me) … I’ll miss you … Yes to lunch, though am v busy doing board presentation so will have to be quick.
12.45? xS
Bella
For Bella it began that same day, the day that Julia quit. She was half an hour late getting into the office – which wasn’t like her. But that morning everything had gone wrong. Millie had refused to go and put on her school sweatshirt and Bella had ended up screaming at her. Millie had started to cry, and Bella had said that if she didn’t stop she couldn’t go to the party at the weekend. Millie had recovered by the time they got to school, helped by a strawberry Chewit, but Bella hadn’t: these pointless scenes left her feeling distressed, and almost envious of her contemporaries who were spending their twenties getting drunk and behaving exactly as they pleased.
Then there were delays on the Piccadilly Line – someone was having an even worse morning than she was, and had decided to fling themselves under a train. Stuck under a man’s armpit on a stationary tube, Bella opened Metro and read her horoscope.
Your career is progressing well and it seems that your plans cannot fail. Do not get carried away with your ambition. All work and no play will get you down so also take some time out for you.
What crap, she thought. Progressing well? I don’t think so.
She changed at King’s Cross on to the Northern Line and then ran the short distance from Moorgate tube to Atlantic Tower, fearing her boss’s wrath. She never knew where she was with Julia. One minute she would behave as if her PA was her best friend, the next she would be shouting at her over some minor transgression.
Bella went up in the lift, and at the third floor Stephen Hinton got in. The CEO fixed his eyes on the security pass that Bella hung around her neck, making her feel that he was staring at her breasts.
– Good morning, Bella, he said, reading her name off the pass.
– Hi, she replied, and then neither of them said anything and looked at their shoes. What are you meant to say to the CEO? She wasn’t sure, but she hated silences, so she said: There was a person under the train this morning at Caledonian Road.
He stared and then guffawed, which didn’t strike Bella as the right way to respond at all.
She got out at the twelfth floor and went along the corridor past the new work of art, which was a bit of old rag stuck to a canvas. She’d heard that the company had paid $140,000 of shareholders’ money for that, which was pathetic.
The plate of blueberries that Catering delivered every morning was still waiting outside Julia’s office, which must mean that Julia was late too. Bella picked up the shrink-wrapped plate, pushed open the glass door with her foot and was surprised to see Julia’s coat left carelessly on her chair. Bella picked it up, admiring its swirly Paul Smith lining. She took off her own H&M duffel coat and slipped on the other coat. It was both too long and too tight; Julia almost never ate and so, despite being six inches taller than her PA, was considerably thinner. Bella envied her both the coat and the figure. Hastily she took it off, hung it up and started going through her boss’s emails.
At the top was a message from Stella Bradberry saying I’ll miss you. What was that about? And why had Julia fixed a lunch with Stella when she was meant to be taking out the new oil correspondent from the Financial Times?
She looked up to see Julia approaching. She was immaculately made-up as ever, though Bella noticed a tightness about her, an intensity that she had only seen once before, and then by mistake.
– Sorry I was late, Bella started to say, but Julia batted it away.
– I wanted you to be the first to know: I’ve just resigned.
– Oh!
Bella knew this was an inadequate response, but didn’t know what else to say. What she was thinking was: I would have quit in your shoes. Though she never would have been in Julia’s shoes, as she would have had more sense. But she couldn’t say anything because she had never worked out if Julia knew that she, Bella, knew all about it. Sometimes she thought Julia must know – as it would be stupid to expect her not to have read the emails. Though not as stupid as writing them on the office email system in the first place. Julia’s approach to privacy would have made Bella laugh if it hadn’t been so tragic. She had simply transferred all her messages to and from him into a folder marked ‘misc’, which was available on the desktop for anyone who wanted to look.
– What are you going to do? Bella asked at last.
– I’ve been headhunted. I’m going to join Wiley & Marston as a senior political lobbyist.
Bella wasn’t quite sure what this was.
– Congratulations, she said. When are you actually going?
– They’ve asked me to leave today, so I’ll be on three months’ gardening leave at home.
Bella thought this unfair. If you quit on a salary of £140,000 they paid you to stay at home for three months. But if she were to quit on her salary of £29,000 she’d have to work out every last minute of her four weeks’ notice period.
Stella
Stella looked at the sentence she had just written.
We support urgent but informed action to stabilize greenhouse gas (GHG) concentrations by achieving sustainable long-term emission reductions at the lowest possible cost.
She was wondering whether to redraft it to make it snappier when Julia put her head around the door.
– Ready? she said.
Stella got up from her desk and told Nathalie, who sat in a glass antechamber to her office, that she’d be back in an hour.
They walked around the corner to Le Pain Quotidien, a bakery shop with scrubbed wood tables pretending to be in rural France, and Stella ordered a tricolore salad. Julia said she’d have the same, though she told the waiter she didn’t want dressing or pine nuts and wanted only one slice of mozzarella.
– So, said Stella, once the waiter had taken their orders. How did Stephen take it?
– I’ve never seen him so upset, Julia said. It was just extraordinary. He put his head in his hands and for a second he didn’t say anything. Then he said I was the best head of press we’ve ever had and he offered me a pay rise and a promotion.
– So weren’t you tempted to take it?
– Well, said Julia. It’s not entirely about the money. It’s more about me, and where I see myself ten years from now. You know what really scares me? It’s being bored. Doesn’t that thought worry you?
Stella started to say that she wasn’t bored, but Julia went on.
– You and I are totally different. You’ve morphed into an Atlantic Energy person – it’s in your blood in a way it never was in mine. And I’m a risk junkie, while you always play it safe.
It was a funny thing about people who left, Stella thought. They always tried to make you feel bad for staying.
– Maybe you’re right, she replied evenly. I suppose I stay because I like it. Mostly.
– Yes, but don’t you worry that one day you’ll wake up and you’ll be fifty-five, forced into early retirement and it’ll be too late to do anything else? So better to leave now, in your early forties – or your mid-forties or whatever – before it’s too late.
Stella received Julia�
��s reminder that she was three years older in silence. At least I have kept my professional dignity, she thought, which is more than you have.
Stella’s mobile rang.
– Darling … Yes, I know, it’s in my diary … Yes, that’s wonderful, well done. I’m looking forward to hearing about it … Of course I mean it. I’m just with someone … That’s ridiculous. Stop it …
She frowned and hung up.
– Sorry about that. It was Clemmie – she’s flapping about her parents’ evening tonight.
– No, I’m sorry, said Julia. It’s tactless of me to be so demob happy.
Stella was finding the conversation surreal. There was no mention of that cab ride two weeks ago when Julia had, suddenly and inexplicably, wept and told her the story of how she had been having an affair with James Staunton and had destroyed her life and career in one stroke. Stella had tried to be sympathetic, but really she had been amazed and ever so slightly shocked. How did they find the time? And how had she, Stella, completely failed to notice that two close colleagues were sneaking off for steamy encounters in Julia’s flat? She had also failed to understand what they saw in each other. James was neither handsome nor charismatic, and so surely not Julia’s thing. Instead, he was clever and straight and decent (at least she had thought he was decent until now) and so would surely be able to see Julia for the shallow person she was.
– Well, Stella said, I’m really glad it’s all worked out so well for you, and that a situation that could have been so awful has been fine.
Julia ignored this and started to talk about the PR firm and how its political lobbyists were shaping government policy behind the scenes and how one of them used to work at Buckingham Palace.
As they ordered coffee, Stella asked: Did you tell James you are going?
Julia looked suddenly stricken.
– No. I don’t owe him any openness. He wasn’t open with me.
Bella
All day she had been helping Julia clear her office. All sorts of random things accumulate in five years. Among the books and photo frames and pens, Bella found a pale blue lace bra, which Julia calmly took from her and put into her handbag. She kept a large number of shoes in her bottom drawer – four pairs of trainers and an almost new pair of green Kurt Geiger wedges that Bella had only seen her wearing once.
– These are cool, said Bella, even though she thought them horrible.
– What size are you? They are much more you than me – have them if they fit.
– No, I couldn’t, Bella protested.
– Take them, Julia insisted. If it hadn’t been such a mad rush today I would have really liked to get you a proper present and something for Molly.
Bella corrected her in her head: Millie.
– Is there an easy way of deleting all my emails in one go? her boss went on. I suppose I should leave a clean sweep.
– Shall I do it for you?
– No! It’s fine, if you can just remind me …
Bella knew the content of the messages that Julia didn’t want her to see well enough anyway. In particular the last and most lethal addition to the collection, sent exactly two weeks ago. This, Bella knew almost off by heart.
Dear Julia,
I don’t really think I expressed myself well at lunch. I felt tongue-tied and taken aback by your emotional response. What I was trying to say was that we must stop this. The chief reason you know already: I can’t go on doing this to my wife. But also I have felt that we seem to have reached a natural end: the initial lighthearted entanglement between us has latterly become more complex and less enjoyable. Obviously I still value you highly, and I hope we can go on having a good professional relationship and that we can put it behind us.
James
Bella felt sick every time she thought of this. The guy was a complete tosser. Initial lighthearted entanglement – what a pompous prat! And how clever of him to have suddenly discovered that he was married. It made her feel slightly better about Xan, who might be a junkie and a thief, but at least was emotionally honest.
The day Julia had got the message, Bella had watched her read it, stand up and go to the loo and come back holding herself frighteningly straight. She had not said one word about it.
Bella read the email that Julia had drafted:
Today is my last day at Atlantic Energy. The last five years have been some of the most stimulating of my life, but it is now time to move on to even greater challenges.
Above all what I will miss is the quality of the people: you are not only professional and talented but so many of you have become such good friends. I will miss every one of you. Please keep in touch –
Bella looked at it and thought: whatever. And then she forwarded it, as instructed, to all 17,000 employees worldwide.
– I don’t suppose, Bella asked, that you have any idea who is going to take over from you?
Julia shrugged.
– I don’t. But there’s no reason why you need to stay in the Press Office. I’ll put in a good word with HR and tell them to find you someone really fun to work with.
Since she’d joined Atlantic Energy four years ago, Bella had had three bosses. First was George Stevens in Chemicals, who was OK in a dull kind of way. Then Giles Conville, who was nicer but such a control freak he never gave her anything to do for fear that she might screw it up. And finally, Julia. It was the first time she’d had a woman boss, and on balance she didn’t like it. There was something confusing about the mateyness. Julia wanted to be liked, but wasn’t really all that likeable.
Bella called a taxi for her and helped carry everything down in the lift. There was a yellow plastic crate with PROPERTY OF ATLANTIC ENERGY written on its side, a black bin liner and a Joe Malone carrier bag. These seemed sad remnants of five years’ work.
To her surprise, and not altogether to her pleasure, Julia put her thin arms around Bella and gave her a hug.
– We must have a girls’ lunch as soon as I’m settled. I’ll call you. You’ve been a fantastic help to me, Bella. I’m going to miss you.
Bella had watched this woman lie and cheat. She had lied for her. She had never been thanked. But now, seeing her fighting to keep her dignity, she suddenly felt that maybe she would miss her after all.
Stella
– Russell is trying to find you, said Nathalie as Stella returned to her office after a weekly planning meeting.
He seemed to have been trying very hard indeed: there were two emails waiting for her, a voicemail and a Post-it note on her computer screen. This was the key skill of being in Human Resources, she thought: perseverance. She clicked on his first email.
Hi Stella
Can I beg a favour? Julia was due to give a keynote at the trainees’ induction workshop tomorrow. Obviously I’m mindful of the diversity agenda, and so I’m looking to find another woman to do it instead. I know it’s incredibly short notice, but it would be really helpful if you could step up to the plate just this once?
All best, Russell
She sighed and opened the next one.
Hi Stella
Don’t know if you’ve had a chance to consider my earlier email. I know it would mean a lot to the trainees to listen to such an inspirational figure as your good self.
I also wanted to ask if you could take the fast-track trainee assigned to Julia? You are already due to get Beate Schlegel, but if you could also take Rhys Williams? Rhys isn’t an economist, but on our competency tests he scores very highly on leadership potential. I’m sure he’ll be able to add value in the economics team with you as a mentor.
Russell
Why did Russell have to talk like this, Stella wondered? And why were senior women expected not only to do their jobs but be representatives of their sex as well as glorified school prefects?
She resolved to say no. This was one of the few things that Stella was excessively bad at; she frequently found herself doing things just because she could not bring herself to refuse. She realized it was ridic
ulous and also understood and despised the reason for it: she feared causing displeasure. Resolutely she replied:
Russell – Would love to help. Unfortunately have to leave office promptly that evening – it’s my daughter’s parents’ evening – so I’m afraid it’s not going to work out.
However, I’m happy to take on an extra trainee. As you correctly point out, there is never any shortage of work in economics.
Stella
As it happened, the parents’ evening had been the previous night. Stella and Charles had sat side by side in the wood-panelled assembly hall and heard from one teacher after another that their daughter – who only that morning had twice told her mother to fuck off – was a delight, industrious, cooperative, creative. Only Clemmie’s form teacher had said she was looking a bit thin and asked if everything was all right. Stella had assured her Clemmie was fine. At least fine at eating. And as for thin, Stella had been thinner than that at fourteen, and Charles had also been a wisp when she had first met him. Not that one would know that now. There had been a substantial thickening around the middle.
Her email started flashing. Russell again.
Hi, thanks for reverting so promptly. The agenda tomorrow is something of a moveable feast, so if you could give your speech to kick the session off in the morning? It would only take ten minutes. If you can make time for this it really will help us in our mission to deliver a world class, diverse workforce.
All best, Russell
Shit, damn, bugger, she thought, and emailed back.
OK, can do 10 mins at 9.40.
Bella
Bella was enjoying having no boss. No one seemed to want to tell her who she was going to work for, so she remained at her old desk in the Press Office fielding a few calls and not doing terribly much.
When the phone went she said: I’m afraid Julia Swanson has left the company. Can I put you through to Ben Thomas, her deputy?
She liked Ben and hoped they’d give the job to him.
– Are you going to go for it? she’d asked when he popped his head around her door.
– Don’t know. I talked to Russell about it this morning but he fobbed me off with something about a reorganization.
In Office Hours Page 2