You Had Me at Merlot

by Lisa Dickenson

  ‘Maybe we could stay in Tuscany, start our own company.’

  ‘Hear, hear.’

  ‘You’re not happy at work?’

  Oops. ‘No, no, that’s not what I meant, I love work. I love my job and the people are great, and it’s really interesting and varied, it’s just nice to have a holiday occasionally. Sometimes I think my main problem is that I’m too dedicated.’ I side-eyed her, wondering if she’d noticed I’d just played the ultimate brown-nosing interview question card.

  ‘You do work very hard: I’ve noticed.’ My heart gave a happy jump, but I kept a straight face – this wasn’t the time to fish for performance compliments. ‘They don’t appreciate you like they should.’

  I wondered who ‘they’ were. My co-workers? My bosses? Her bosses?

  ‘They ask so much of your life be dedicated to them and they take it totally for granted. They wouldn’t even have a company if it wasn’t for you, putting in all that hard work.’

  I wasn’t sure that was totally accurate, but I also wasn’t quite sure if we were still talking about me. ‘I do really like what I do, though. I could leave earlier if I wanted, I just like being on top of things and seeing clients happy and helping our profile grow.’

  ‘But those things are all for them, not for you directly. If you left, you’d be replaced and it would carry on. You give, give, give, but where’s the direct benefit for you?’

  This was a downer. And I was yet to understand how boyfriends, work and being on an unwanted singles’ holiday all linked together. ‘I guess the benefit for me would be moving up the company and building my career. Promotions and such larks.’

  ‘And there it is,’ sighed Donna. Did I say something wrong? ‘Do you know how long I’ve worked there?’

  ‘I’m not sure—’

  ‘Over twenty-five years. And do you know how long I’ve been in my current role?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ten years.’

  ‘You’re very good at it,’ I offered; probably the most patronising thing I could say.

  ‘Yes, I am, but ten years? I deserved a promotion.’

  I thought back over my seven years with the company. I’d worked my way up from marketing assistant to marketing executive to marketing manager, and had always been pleased with how encouraging everyone was there about furthering my career and reaching higher. But was there a point the promotions stopped?

  Donna continued: ‘I’m pressing so hard up against that glass ceiling the board – and Andreas – thought it might crack. Perish the thought.’ Andreas was our CEO, a slight man who looked like Mr Burns crossed with Beavis and/or Butthead. At my level we rarely saw him, unless he was showing an obviously bored member of the board around the office.

  ‘Do you really think there’s a glass ceiling there?’ I didn’t think Donna was flaky or paranoid enough to imagine such a thing, but the thought made me queasy.

  ‘Trust me. I didn’t want to believe it for a long time. Like you, I’ve dedicated a lot of time to this company; it’s been a huge portion of my life. I hated to think there was this seedy side of them. But I couldn’t ignore the facts.’ She gnawed on a biscotti for a while. This must be killing her to have to admit all of this. ‘I am good enough. I am worthy of being on the top rung. I’ve achieved a lot in this position, I’m more than qualified, but I’m not taken seriously because I’m a woman. I’m constantly pushed aside and, lo and behold, another high-ranking job is filled by a man who’s been recruited from another company or brought in from the board.’

  My breathing shallowed as she spoke. This could be my future.

  ‘Just so you know, I’m not anti-men—’

  ‘No I know, and I hate that when women demand equality it’s often met with “Ooo, she’s a man-hater.” It’s nothing to do with that,’ I said, exasperated.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Do you think it’s a conscious thing, like Andreas is sat there with the board saying, “Obviously we won’t hire her because she’s a woman,” or do you think it’s unconscious and they just don’t even consider women as serious candidates?’

  ‘Does it make any difference? Both are as bad as each other, in a way.’

  ‘I guess you’re right.’

  ‘But right now, if I had to guess, I’d say the first one. There’s been a shift in the past few months. There are rumblings of significant changes to management, restructuring and such things. I was excited to begin with, but have noticed that a cold shoulder’s been turned my way more and more frequently of late.’

  The way Donna spoke was admirable. She described her situation with controlled dignity, whereas I could feel my blood heating as she went on.

  ‘Then the comments started. About how I’m getting older, about how surely I wanted a man in my life for those times I’m not at work.’

  ‘That’s awful; surely it’s illegal for them to say that kind of thing to you?’

  Donna rubbed her eyes, which were by now bare of make-up. ‘It was Andreas that advocated and paid for me to go on this holiday.’

  ‘Well that’s … really wrong.’

  ‘Yes it is, it’s horrible, and I was so taken aback, and angry and confused, that I agreed. And I’m so ashamed. Not that this place, this type of holiday, is anything to be ashamed of, but I feel like I gave up and let the bully-boy win. It was the weakest moment of my life.’

  She broke down and, feeling her pain, my heart broke with hers. All her life and her dedication thrown aside. Donna wasn’t weak, she didn’t deserve to feel ashamed, she deserved the whole company handed to her on a stick. Those utter bastards.

  ‘Those utter bastards,’ I mumbled through my own snotty tears.

  ‘It’s obvious they’re going to make me redundant. They couldn’t have made it any clearer that I was just in the way now, a bag of old rubbish.’ A loud sob choked its way out of her.

  ‘You’re not rubbish, you’re my idol. You’re strong and powerful and to hell with them and their stupid man-bollocks. What they’re doing is completely wrong. Maybe you could sue them or something.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, I won’t go quietly. I’ll fight it, but what a bitter taste that’ll leave, what a way to end my career. Besides, stupid old me accepted the holiday, feeling for a fleeting second like I deserved a free trip and a break from their bullshit; they’ll argue that I can’t be that upset. I should never, ever have come.’

  ‘But you did come, and I was here as well – I know that was a shock for us both but I’m really glad now that you weren’t on your own. Stop beating yourself up about something you can’t change. You made one mistake in the last ten years. It’s not like doing the correct thing up until now ended up having a different effect.’

  To be honest, I don’t know how I was delivering this calm advice because inside I was fuming, wanting to get on the next plane, march into the fancy meeting room at work and rip every one of their penises off and lob them out the window.

  Sorry, but it’s true.

  At that moment the group appeared from one of the far-off outhouses, their chatter and laughter carrying across the vineyard. Donna threw on her sunglasses and stood up.

  ‘Elle, thank you for listening, I’m sorry for lumping this on you and I hope it doesn’t affect your holiday. I’m a horrible person for even making you talk about work while we’re here. I’m going to go to my room for a bit; I don’t want to see anyone else right now.’

  With that she left, quick as a flash. I stood up slowly, unable to think straight since an earthquake had just knocked a huge part of my world sideways. I wasn’t ready to smile or listen to stories of who fancied who, or field innuendo from George. Right now, they could all go to hell and leave me alone.

  I stood in the middle of my room, the aim being to calm my fast-pumping heart, but the longer I stood there, thoughts brewing, the more I felt like I was preparing for battle.

  How dare they? How fucking dare they?

  Misogyny. Sexism. Segregation. How dar
e they decide that’s going to be part of my life? How dare they push that on me?

  I’m tired of women being the victims of things like this. Of anyone being the victim of this kind of bullshit. Is the idea of equality that damn hard for these tiny, worthless brains to understand? I don’t think I’d ever felt so angry.

  And I felt like a fool, being so passionate about a job, dedicating so much time and energy to it, when now it seemed … false. Pointless. They didn’t really care at all.

  I stormed down the corridor and banged on the door of Donna’s room, perhaps a little louder than I should have. She opened the door, an arm full of toiletries and a towel.

  ‘They don’t care about us,’ I cried. ‘At all. They don’t give a shit.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Well they should.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘They should give a shit. We’re good employees, we all are. But they really don’t care. And it makes me want to—’

  ‘Trust me, I know – I feel the same. I’ve been through every emotion you’re feeling now, and more.’

  My nostrils flared and I nodded, then turned on my heel and marched back to my room where I paced back and forth a little more. If this was how they treated women when they got close to the top, I sure as hell didn’t want to keep working there. They’d had seven years of my life; they weren’t going to get twenty-five. They worked me to the bone, they made me believe my spare time was more precious if I gave it to them, they promised me a future, but they wouldn’t hold me down or trap me under that glass ceiling until they were done with me. They would never have me.

  I stormed back to Donna’s room and banged on the door again to impart this further wisdom, but there was no answer. I pressed my ear against the door and heard the shower running.

  Fine. Then I was off to see someone else.

  ‘Jamie? Jamie?’ I leant against the wall outside his house, arms folded, cross at the world. Out he came, wiping his hands, a big grin on his face at seeing me.

  ‘Hi, beautiful— whoa, what did I do?’

  ‘Nothing; it’s not you. Can I come in?’

  ‘Of course.’ He put his hand on my back and led me in, his touch sending tingles down my hot spine. ‘What’s wrong? Is it George?’

  ‘No, actually George is a positive angel compared to some people. Why are some people such shits?’ I winced. I wished I could spit this out without it being laced with bitterness. Donna was a better woman than I.

  ‘Hey, Bella, calm down,’ he said with concern, facing me and running his hands down my shaking arms. ‘Talk to me. Has someone hurt you?’

  I tried to form the words, but the lump in my throat blocked them and I wobbled. Jamie pulled me in close and I stood for a while, my face pressed into his chest, mascara going all over his shirt, silently weeping while wishing I wasn’t weeping.

  ‘Shhh. Breathe,’ he cooed, tenderly stroking the back of my head.

  ‘This is stupid, I don’t know why I’m …’ I tried to pull back but he held me firm, taking deep breaths and not releasing me until I matched them.

  ‘Now, what’s happened?’

  ‘I was talking to Donna.’

  ‘Oh no, Donna again?’

  ‘No, it’s not because of her, it’s because of my job. Our job. She told me why she’s on this holiday, and it’s because the company we work for are horrible, sexist knobs who apparently fire women once they get to a certain age or get that bit too ambitious.’

  He blinked. ‘Why don’t you start from the beginning, let it all out?’

  I told him everything, and I think he kept up pretty well despite the fact I was speaking into his shoulder. My words were laced with anger, confusion, sadness and always back to anger, and by the time I had finished I felt drained.

  Jamie kissed my deeply frowning forehead. ‘Bastardi. And these men are your bosses too?’

  ‘Yep, so I guess that’s my future out the window.’

  He wrapped me in a tighter hug and I breathed him in, his clean-ish shirt, his warm chest. ‘I wish I could go and knock their heads together. What century are they living in?’ he mumbled into my hair.

  ‘You know what pisses me off? I feel stupid. I was just in love with that company, always telling people it was this great place to work, that they valued everyone, that it was worth me spending all my extra hours there because I was going to be someone one day.’

  ‘You don’t need them to be someone. You’re a pretty fantastic someone already.’

  ‘But I’m talking about the principle of it. What have I missed out on by giving so much of myself to them?’ I ran my fingers up the back of his neck, looking up at his face. I hadn’t been with a man in years. Years.

  ‘It’s not too late. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

  Maybe it was time to take some things back for myself. I was hot and angry, blood sprinting through my veins, and what I wanted, and what I didn’t, presenting itself in black and white.

  I tugged Jamie by the collar and pulled his face towards me, pressing my lips hard against his, my body not allowing a millimetre to separate me from him. His eyes showed surprise for a moment before glazing over and fluttering closed as he gave in to the intensity of the kiss. I bit his bottom lip and dragged my nails through his hair. The nice girl, the dream employee, was sent outside while the Elle who’d been given sleeping pills for way too long woke up.

  Jamie picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. We stumbled back against his wall, the cold concrete sending a shock down the skin of my back as he pressed me between it and his strong body. His hand was high up my thigh as he held me up, the fabric of my dress falling over the top of it. I wanted him to touch me; I wanted to feel his skin against mine. I wanted him to change me.

  He pulled his mouth away from mine. ‘I want you so much,’ he whispered.

  ‘Show me.’

  His hand moved under my dress, his fingers sliding a centimetre higher and then stopping. ‘We shouldn’t do this now, not with these things on your mind.’

  ‘To hell with that – I want this.’ He couldn’t stop now.

  ‘I’m afraid you might rip my head off like a praying mantis.’

  I let out a laugh, which felt good. ‘That might happen. Can’t we risk it?’

  ‘I really want to, but …’

  I rested my forehead against his, our brows both beaded with sweat. Our breathing slowed and we looked into one another’s eyes. I sighed, and gave him a lopsided smile. He returned it with a relieved one of his own, and with a delicious, gentle kiss he lowered me to the ground, his hands leaving my thighs.

  ‘All right, I guess I’ll go and get my rocks off with Gorgeous George then, if you won’t have me.’

  ‘Okay. I hear he has quite the stash of Viagra. Have a great afternoon.’

  ‘Thank you for listening. That was quite, um, therapeutic.’

  ‘Any time. You okay?’

  ‘I’m sure I will be. I have a lot to think about, but I might go and catch up with Laurie. I could do with an easy-going gossip session right now.’

  ‘Will you talk about me?’

  ‘My fiancé who won’t even sleep with me? I don’t know … where’s the story there?’ I winked and left him to it. For now.

  When I got back to the main house I found Laurie sitting cross-legged against my bedroom door.

  ‘There you are!’ she cried, pulling herself up. ‘Have you been doing it with Jamie since yesterday evening?’

  ‘No,’ I laughed, pulling her inside my room, where she clocked my un-slept-in bed and raised her eyebrows. ‘I made it this morning.’

  ‘Liar – that’s the chocolate they put on the pillows at night.’ She popped my chocolate in her mouth and kicked off her flip-flops. ‘Tell me everything. Wait – is it too early for wine?’

  ‘Urgh, you go ahead. Think I’m going to stick to acqua frizzante.’

  ‘Feeling a little rough?’

  ‘In more ways than one. But what I
could really do with is just to hear something other than my own thoughts for a bit. Can you tell me your gossip and I promise to tell you mine after?’

  ‘I don’t have any gossip. What do you take me for?’

  ‘Really? Because I spied with my little eye something beginning with “s” on Ponte Vecchio yesterday.’

  ‘Slut?’

  ‘No! Snogging!’

  ‘Oh, I did do some snogging. Some very lovely snogging.’ Laurie grinned. ‘With Jon, who, by the way, has a tongue piercing.’

  ‘Really? But he’s so timid.’

  ‘I know. He’s like this lovable geek with a sexy-as-hell mouth.’

  ‘Was there anything more than snogging?’

  ‘Do you mean did we dooooo it?’

  ‘Yes. Did you?’

  ‘Just a little bit.’

  ‘A little bit? What does that mean?’

  ‘It means …’

  ‘On a scale of Enid Blyton to Fifty Shades?’

  ‘Let’s say around the Bridget Jones area. Not too explicit, but kind of fun. There was a lot of laughing.’

  ‘Did you see his willy?’ I whispered.

  ‘I did – that wasn’t the cause of the laughing though, just to clarify. And no, it wasn’t pierced, if that was going to be your next question.’

  ‘It wasn’t!’

  ‘Oh – it was mine.’

  ‘I’m glad you had a fun night, and he seems really cool.’ I smiled at my friend as she blushed a light pink and nodded. ‘What happened to Marco?’

  ‘Marco is very cool, and I thought that us having similar-ish careers would mean we’d be completely suited to each other. But when we talk, it’s like … like a really good networking event.’

  ‘No spark?’

  ‘A tiny one. Like how you’d flirt with a co-worker just to brighten up a dull day at the office, but that’s about it. Now you tell me: did you lose your virginity last night?’

  ‘Laurie! It’s not been that long.’

  ‘There’ve been like, fourteen new Sugababes since you last did it.’

  Actually, that could be very true. ‘We didn’t do the honkytonk.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Gettin’ jiggy with it. Driving the o-train. We did not get down with the trumpets.’