High Potential

by Ber Carroll

The woman was philosophical. ‘Ah, sure, how were you to know?’

  ‘Okay . . . well, thanks . . .’

  ‘Right, so,’ said Liz, ‘I hope you find who you’re looking for. Bye-bye, now.’

  Katie yawned again and closed down the phone directory. The clock on the bottom right of the screen reported the time as eight-thirty. Back in Sydney she’d still be working, be it at the office or home. Now she spent her evenings calling up strangers asking if they knew of Rose Carey or Frank Horgan. It seemed that some of the energy she had previously focused on work was being redirected to the search for her family.

  Katie turned on the TV. A short while later her mobile phone started to ring. She had set up international roaming in order to be contactable while she was away, and she assumed that it would be Neil or Graham with one of their many queries.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Katie, it’s Claudine.’

  The secretary’s voice was clipped but there was nothing unusual in that.

  ‘Hi, Claudine,’ she said. ‘How are you? And how’s Ethan?’

  ‘They’ve fired me,’ was her reply. ‘The bastards have fired me!’

  Katie went cold. Surely they wouldn’t dare fire Claudine?

  ‘Just tell me what happened,’ she said as she muted the volume of the television, ‘tell me every single thing that happened.’

  She heard Claudine take an unsteady breath.

  ‘Well, Ethan finally came out of traction. I was so excited about it – I had this naive image of us walking out of the hospital hand in hand. Nobody told me that his muscles would be wasted away, that he’d need a few weeks of physiotherapy. Of course, as soon as I saw him trying to sit up, his head hanging like a puppet, I realised that I’d been on cloud nine.’

  ‘Poor Ethan,’ said Katie, picturing the brave young boy who now had another hurdle to get over.

  ‘So I called Neil,’ Claudine continued. ‘I told him that I had to take another few weeks off. I explained about the physiotherapy and how Ethan still needed me. Neil wasn’t over the moon about it, but he seemed okay. Then I get this letter today. It says . . .’ she paused before quoting, ‘ “Due to the fact you have not made yourself available for work as we requested in our letter of June 16, we regret that we must terminate your employment” ’

  ‘What’s this other letter?’ asked Katie.

  ‘They’ve enclosed a copy of it,’ Claudine told her. ‘It said that I had used up all my annual and sick leave and that I had to make myself available for work within fourteen days. But I swear to you I never set eyes on it until today.’

  Katie’s heart sank. ‘Okay, let’s not panic,’ she said, not letting on how concerned she was. ‘I’ll draft a response for you – but please, Claudine, please don’t tell a soul.’

  ‘You know you can trust me.’ Claudine sounded relieved.

  Katie was keenly aware that, regardless of Claudine’s trustworthiness, she was putting her own job on the line by helping her. She shuddered to think what Neil would do if he found out. But she couldn’t let him get away with this: fabricating a letter of warning, firing Claudine in the middle of a personal crisis, being as unethical as he was ruthless.

  She stopped thinking about the dire consequences of what she was about to do and said, ‘Okay, Claudine. Listen carefully. I want you to write down the dates, times and details of every discussion you’ve had with Neil, and me, since Ethan had his accident –’

  ‘But I don’t want to drag your name into it,’ she objected.

  Katie reassured her. ‘Fact is that I, one of your bosses, told you not to return to work until Ethan was well. It is grossly unfair for Neil to come along and say it is suddenly not okay.’

  ‘Thanks, Katie,’ said Claudine, her voice weary. ‘I’m not sure how I can ever repay you for all your help.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Just email me the details and I’ll take it from there, okay? And say hi to Ethan for me.’

  The clinic was gradually becoming busier. On Thursday morning, a week after their grand opening, they had four people come in: a woman who needed advice in relation to a dispute with her landlord, a man who wanted compensation for a drunken fall, a young girl who needed assistance with her contract of employment, and an elderly lady who believed she was a victim of workplace discrimination. Katie and Mags were kept occupied right up to lunchtime.

  ‘Word is spreading on the street,’ said Mags when the last client left. ‘Come on, let’s go for lunch. I’m starving.’

  ‘I’ve got something that I need to work on,’ Katie replied. ‘Can you bring me back a sandwich?’

  ‘What –’ Mags started to ask.

  Katie headed her off at the pass. ‘It’s something for the office back in Sydney. Now, get out of here – and don’t be so damned nosy.’

  Mags laughed as she headed out the door.

  As soon as she was alone, Katie took her laptop from the bag she usually used to carry files. She felt a pang of guilt as she plugged it into the socket.

  I just want to look at Claudine’s letter in the cold light of day, she justified to herself as she opened up the document.

  It was one of the hardest letters she had ever written. Not only did she have to contest the grounds of termination and seek appropriate compensation, she also had to disguise her usual writing style so that Neil wouldn’t cotton on.

  She was deep in thought when she heard the door swing open.

  Damn, Mags must have forgotten to put up the Closed sign.

  It was impossible to guess the age of the man who stood in the doorway. Grime coated the top half of his face and a grey scraggy beard the bottom half. His heavy anorak, totally inappropriate for the time of year, had rips in the vinyl and his pants were nothing more than filthy rags. His boots, split open at the toes, revealed muddied socks, and a black toenail protruded through the frayed wool.

  Homeless, she thought. Maybe one of the curled-up bodies I’ve seen sleeping in the big arched doorways of O’Connell Street.

  He finally moved, the sour stench of alcohol reaching her before he did. She tried not to flinch at the smell.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  He pointed to an old wound above his eyebrow.

  ‘They cracked a bottle off me head.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The bloody winos.’

  In some bizarre way it seemed that he thought himself superior to the ‘winos’, as if the alcohol that warmed him from the coldness of street life was of a much better quality.

  ‘When did it happen?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. It was clear that days, months and years were blurred in his mind.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Jerry,’ he mumbled and came a step closer. The stench got even stronger.

  ‘Jerry, my name is Katie,’ she looked directly into his black eyes, ‘and I’m going to be honest with you. That wound looks a few months old. I doubt there’s anything we can do now to get you compensation.’

  His leg shot out in sudden vicious anger and kicked over one of the plastic chairs.

  ‘Fuck you!’

  There was so much venom in those two words that they frightened Katie much more than his kicking the chair.

  ‘Why don’t you go home now, Jerry, and come back sometime when you’re a little bit calmer?’

  She didn’t want him to know how scared she was. But there was a telltale waver in her voice. She could hear it and could only assume that he did too.

  ‘Yer all the fucking same!’ he shouted in response and kicked the chair a second time. It boomeranged off the wall and Katie gripped the edge of the old table, the only thing that separated her from his violence.

  ‘Stop, Jerry.’

  He ignored her, his head turning frantically from side to side as he tried to locate something else that he could use to take out his frustration.

  She stood up behind the table, her knees knocking.

  ‘Go home, Jerry!’ she yelled at the top of her voice. �
��Go on, get out of here!’

  Who knows what would have happened next had they not heard footsteps rushing down the hall. Mary, the receptionist, ran into the room.

  ‘What’s all the commotion about?’

  ‘A misunderstanding,’ said Katie, relieved to have backup, regardless of the fact that Mary was frail enough to knock over with a feather. ‘Jerry is just leaving now.’

  Seconds ticked by. Jerry looked from one woman to the other, as if weighing something up. Then, without saying a word, he walked out the door, down the hallway, and up the steps to the street: his home.

  ‘What were you doing here on your own?’ asked Mary. ‘Don’t you know how dangerous it is?’

  ‘Sorry for causing you such a fright.’ Katie noticed that her hands were shaking. ‘Mags and I got our wires crossed. She didn’t put up the Closed sign and I didn’t lock the door.’

  Mary stared at the laptop. ‘You’re asking for trouble with that. You’re lucky he didn’t swipe it.’

  ‘I know,’ said Katie, feeling very stupid and out of her depth with this ugly side to pro bono work. ‘I won’t bring it here again. Please, don’t tell Mags.’

  Mary replied with something that sounded like ‘harrumph’. Katie wasn’t sure if it was a promise to keep quiet or not.

  Chapter 17

  ‘It’s hard to believe that I’ve been here six weeks already.’

  ‘Time flies when you’re having fun,’ Stephen bellowed down the line.

  Katie held the phone back from her ear. ‘Do you shout at your girlfriend the same way you shout at everyone else?’

  ‘Piss off,’ he retorted.

  ‘Still in love?’

  ‘Never mind me. Have you reeled in an Irishman yet?’

  ‘No – I’m more of a curiosity than an object of desire to them.’

  ‘No news there.’

  When he had finished chortling at his own wit, Katie asked, ‘Any give with Mum and Dad yet?’

  ‘Not an inch,’ he replied. ‘Ireland is taboo – a no-go zone.’

  Katie sighed at his response. Truth be told, she was beginning to feel less confident that her parents would come around.

  ‘I’ve started to search for the family here,’ she said quietly.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Just the phone directory so far – nothing very sophisticated. I haven’t had much luck, though.’

  ‘Tread carefully, Katie,’ he warned. ‘Something tells me that Mum would be mighty upset if she knew what you were up to.’

  ‘I know,’ she closed her eyes, picturing Rose’s face, ‘I know.’

  Katie was pensive when she hung up the phone. She truly didn’t want to upset her mother in any way but she couldn’t stop what she was doing. She needed to find the rest of her family. It was something she couldn’t deny herself. Like an addiction. Like how Geoff had felt about gambling.

  Sleep was slow to come that night as Rose and Geoff flitted in and out of her head. Rose had been wary of him right from the start.

  ‘That’s an expensive car,’ she had said when she first saw his Jaguar.

  ‘No point in waiting until you’re fifty to get one,’ Katie had answered airily.

  There had been a similar reaction when she saw their new house.

  ‘Are you sure you and Geoff can afford this?’

  It turned out that Rose was right to be wary of Geoff’s cavalier attitude to money. For Geoff saw no problem with extending himself to the very limits of his income, and beyond. It was only a matter of time before he had gambled himself into a huge hole.

  ‘What?’ Katie had been utterly shocked when he finally owned up. ‘Our house? The bank is going to foreclose on our house?’

  He nodded, his eyes cast downwards to his clasped hands.

  ‘But we’re ahead with our repayments. Our last statement –’ She stopped, trying to remember when she had last seen a bank statement. She groaned when she realised it was months ago.

  ‘I’m sorry, Katie – that money is gone.’

  Distraught, she had run to her mother for comfort.

  ‘He was hiding the mail from me. I never had an inkling the mortgage was in arrears. Had I known I could have done something about it!’

  ‘It will be okay, pet.’ Rose squeezed her hand. ‘It’s just bricks and mortar at the end of the day.’

  But Katie wasn’t quite as philosophical about it.

  ‘I’ll never forgive him, Mum!’

  Rose’s reply was not what she was expecting. ‘If you don’t forgive him, Katie, then who can he turn to? Who will save him from himself? What about “for better or for worse”?’

  ‘We’re not married yet, Mum.’

  ‘You’re as good as married – you made the promise to him when you accepted the engagement ring.’

  Katie knew that a big part of Rose wanted her daughter as far away from Geoff Kemp as possible. However, she was a strong believer in right and wrong. And evidently it was wrong for Katie not to give Geoff another chance.

  So she did give him a second chance. And a third. And a fourth.

  An uneventful week passed by with still no word from Claudine. Katie resisted the urge to call her. She knew Claudine would make contact as soon as she had a response from MFJ. Knowing Neil, he was deliberately dragging his heels and trying to psych her out.

  On Thursday Katie received an email from Angela about the High Potential programme.

  Trying to organise a teleconference for the group to see how everyone is doing. Thinking of southern hemisphere am, northern hemisphere pm. Would you be able to link up at 10 pm tomorrow?

  Katie responded in the affirmative. She was looking forward to hearing what the others were up to. She tried not to dwell on the fact that Jim would be there. She wasn’t at all successful.

  After work the next day, Katie went for the usual Friday-night drinks with Mags, Seamus and the gang. She had two glasses of wine and got home before ten. She dialled the conference number and stated her name. It echoed back at her.

  ‘Hello, Katie Horgan.’

  Her heart jumped at the sound of Jim’s voice.

  ‘Come straight from the pub?’ he asked before she had the chance to return his greeting.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I know the scene too well over there. Was Mags with you?’

  ‘Yeah. And Seamus, her boyfriend. And all his friends.’

  A small silence followed. She felt awkward, as if she’d just run into an ex-boyfriend. Only thing was, she and Jim hadn’t even got as far as dating.

  ‘I’ll bet they’re all crazy about you,’ he said, his voice serious.

  ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

  The tension that had been building all day reached an unbearable climax. Hardly daring to breathe, she waited for what he would say next. However, the moment was shattered with an incoming beep and the words, ‘David Smythe.’ They were no longer alone.

  Damn it, David. Ten out of ten for bad timing!

  The rest of the callers announced themselves not long after David. Angela allowed a few minutes of general chitchat before she called for some structure to the conversation.

  ‘Let’s do an update one by one. Isabelle, how are things in sunny Madrid?’

  ‘Great,’ Isabelle replied enthusiastically. ‘I’m doing work for one of the largest conglomerates in Spain – speaking the language has given me a huge advantage. I’m going to find it hard to leave here – I can tell already.’

  Carole, sounding as disdainful as ever, gave her update next. ‘I didn’t realise the Singapore office was so small – there’s little opportunity to use the full extent of my talents here. I would be bored out of my mind if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m helping Jim remotely with the case in Auckland.’

  Katie knew it was perfectly reasonable for Jim and Carole to be in professional contact, but she couldn’t help feeling a little jealous.

  ‘Carole’s been a big help on some of the international aspects of the case,’
said Jim. ‘I’ve almost got the parties to agree to an out-of-court settlement. I may be back in Sydney sooner than the rest of you.’

  Oliver was next. ‘It’s dog eat dog over here. The New Yorkers are tough on each other, never mind about foreigners like me. Crystelle loves it, though – she’s got the agro attitude down pat – and I don’t want to even talk about how she’s abused our credit card on Fifth Avenue.’

  When Katie’s turn came round she told them about Just Ask and the new legal clinic.

  ‘It looks like I’ll be dedicated to it for the next few months. It’s an interesting experience – I’m learning lots. Not about the law, about life: the homeless, destitute and illiterate. Let’s say I’ve well and truly fallen out of my ivory tower.’

  She described the incident with Jerry, making it sound funny when it had been far from that.

  ‘It was lucky the receptionist heard all the commotion,’ she recounted. ‘I now know why it’s important to have two of us there at all times.’

  David, the last to speak, was very down in the dumps. ‘The sooner this assignment is over, the better. The tax system is totally different here – it would take months to become competent enough to offer even basic advice. And Edinburgh is cold, even in summer – I’ll never take Sydney for granted again.’

  Angela consoled him. ‘I’m sure it will get better, David. You’ll find your niche and won’t want to go home when the time comes.’

  Angela then finished up with the promise she would organise a similar conference call at the end of the next six-week milestone.

  When Katie logged into her email the next day there was a new message: from Jim. She double-clicked to open it up.

  Hi Katie,

  It was great to talk to you last night. You made me long for a Guinness and a good night out on Dublin town. You’ve probably forgotten, but we still have a raincheck on that drink. I’m thinking of coming home for a brief visit – so it might be sooner than you think.

  Take care until then,

  Jim

  Feeling rather strange, Katie read the message again. It was straightforward, really. Jim wanted to go for a drink with her, in Dublin. The tone of his message was relaxed, so why did she suddenly feel pressured?

  She shut down her email a few minutes later without sending a response. The apartment felt claustrophobic. She needed to get out, to go somewhere she could unravel her feelings.