The Rival

by Charlotte Duckworth

  ‘I don’t think . . .’ I begin.

  ‘I’m not interested any more,’ Paula says, tossing the printout of the report I gave her into the bin by her side. So much anger. ‘You’re what? Twenty? Your boss is pregnant and can’t even be bothered to show up to the meeting, despite the fact I’ve told her how unimpressed I’ve been with your . . . service. The people you have working for you just aren’t good enough. I haven’t forgotten that breach of my non-disclosure agreement, either. All your digital this and digital that. Just nonsense. No evidence, no results, and numbers that mean nothing. I won’t be paying your invoice, and I don’t expect to receive any more from you.’

  I stand up, before she has the chance to do so.

  ‘I can see we’re getting nowhere,’ I say, and although my voice is calm, inside my heart is thundering. Thank God I checked out her contract before I came today. ‘I accept you wish to terminate our agreement. However, you have signed a contract with us, and I’m afraid it includes a three-month notice period. We expect to receive payment for contracted work, whether that work is still required or not. You’ll see it in the terms you signed. We will be sending you future invoices for the duration of your notice period, and we will be expecting payment for them.’

  I turn and leave, before she has the chance to say anything else. but once I’m safely out on the street, surrounded by picture-perfect Hampstead houses, I feel the tears start to come in big fat splashes, and I don’t try to stop them.

  THEN

  Helena

  They let me go home with promises to rest more, minimize stress, keep my feet up and keep an eye on any headaches, swellings or tummy pain, but they don’t seem to be very happy about it.

  ‘Try to take it easy,’ the midwife says to me, but her voice doesn’t sound sympathetic. Instead, it feels as if she’s telling me off – reminding me what a failure I have been at this mothering thing, so far. ‘Remember, it’s not just you that you have to think about now.’

  I want to tell her that I never think about me, that I think of nothing but other people. I want to tell her that I made promises to David, that I love my career – or at least, I used to – but my incessant working isn’t about that, that of course it’s all about the baby, because I’m worried about our finances now Jack’s not working. I have to work hard to make sure the baby has everything she needs. But I don’t have the courage, so instead I just nod and tell her I’ll do my best. Even though that’s never enough.

  I try to call Ashley on the way back from the hospital, but it just rings out. The meeting would have ended an hour ago, and I know she’s just avoiding me or punishing me. Since her promotion she’s treated me as though we’re on the same level, sometimes as though she thinks I’m her subordinate. She goes to David over my head all the time now, with no apologies or indication that she thinks she’s doing anything wrong.

  I leave her a message, telling her the GP was worried about the baby’s growth but the hospital said everything was fine, even though part of me worries that that makes it sound worse. Like I was making the whole thing up, or overreacting.

  I take my time making my way to the office. The pavements are coated with leaves, past their sell-by date, like me. I can’t believe it’s October already. I’m dreading it. I’m dreading seeing everyone. The staff no longer feel like allies. The other day, I ended up swearing out loud as Ash left the office, slamming the door behind her, as she always does, without regard for anyone else’s concentration levels or eardrums. Amy, once seemingly mute, stunned me by defending Ash’s behaviour, explaining that she was ‘a busy lady’, as though that made it OK, but more significantly, as though I am not. That’s when I realized: they think I’m lazy. She’s got them all on her side now. She’s the burning martyr, picking up the slack while I sit and line my pregnant pockets with the proceeds.

  Most of them did a terrible job of hiding their surprise at finding out I was pregnant, and Jess actually asked me if it was planned. I lied, of course, and then kicked myself for it as I felt Ash smirking behind me. I shouldn’t have even answered the question – it was none of her business. But being pregnant has made me feel like a great big lump of a burden on everyone around me, and I feel I owe them all something.

  Ash is on the phone as I come into the office, chatting away in what sounds, bizarrely, like French. Then I remember; she’s been teaching herself in the evenings. She’s always teaching herself something, taking classes on the quiet. Her new passion for languages comes from her deciding we need to go international, get some foreign clients on board. She wants a dedicated area at the next pop-up and we’ve had to move the event to a bigger venue to accommodate all the brands that want to be involved. Her newest idea is to create a special feature area, showing off global brands. She’s beaming as she laughs away, charming the pants off whoever she’s speaking to, and again I feel like she has sucked out all the energy for life I once had: I’m the dying flower and she’s the one about to come into bloom.

  Is this what happens to women as we get older? Is it really this obvious?

  She hangs up and smiles at me as I sit at my desk, wedging myself awkwardly into my office chair. I actually feel jealous of her.

  ‘Hi!’ she says, her voice bright, and whatever happened with Paula has been forgotten. This is what she’s like: one minute furious, the next euphoric. ‘How was your appointment?’

  ‘Fine,’ I say, because she doesn’t care, anyway – and I’ve already spent twenty minutes on the phone reassuring both Jack and my mother in minute detail. ‘How did the meeting with MollyMoo go? Listen, I’m so sorry . . .’

  She waves my speech away.

  ‘Oh, she dumped us, but don’t worry, we’ll make her pay. I’ve spoken to David, the contract’s watertight. But anyway, listen, that was Aimez-Moi – they love what we’re doing, want us to go out there and meet them. How exciting is that!’

  I smile weakly, her once-infectious enthusiasm no longer enough to lift me out of my sense of displacement. I’m a sweaty lump between two stools – no longer the high-flyer.

  ‘That’s great,’ I say. ‘When?’

  ‘A week Tuesday – I was looking at the flights when I was talking to him – he loves me, by the way. I think my attempts to speak French might have scored us a few more brownie points. Anyway, there’s a flight that leaves at five twenty in the morning. Yes, I know, ouch, but then we could be there for the whole day, and come back in the evening. It’d be fun to stay over, but on the Wednesday I’m chocka, so . . .’

  I screw my nose up, filled with a powerful and overwhelming urge to sob. The tears are always right behind me, these days.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Ash asks.

  ‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I have to have another scan on the Tuesday, that’s all. I’m sure I can rearrange it.’

  ‘Oh, if you could,’ she says, smiling stiffly. ‘I think it’s important you’re there for this one.’

  For this one?

  There’s a pause and she swallows. ‘He says he knows your dad. I think he’d like to meet you.’

  ‘Of course,’ I say, looking down at my phone. Jack has messaged me.

  Take it easy! Are you taking it easy?!

  A Fawlty Towers quote. He always knows exactly how to make me smile.

  But then I remember the thing that’s been niggling at the back of my mind, the way the day started, even though it already feels as though it was a hundred hours ago.

  ‘Ash?’ I say, and that rush of anger returns as she looks at me, her face blank and unfeeling, the waxwork mask back. I’m so relieved that I still have some guts somewhere. ‘I saw you advertise for an Events Assistant. I thought we discussed this. Guy can help you out, if you’re struggling. But at the moment, we can’t afford to have someone just assisting the events, given that they’re only happening every quarter.’

  ‘Oh that,’ she says, and if she thinks that she’s going to be able to charm me like she did the Frenchman on the phone, she’s wrong. ‘
Don’t worry. I spoke to David about it and he signed it off without even a murmur. Said we can have the budget for a grad-level position. I think I’m learning how to wrap him around my little finger, like you do!’

  I think of all the times I’ve asked David for a marketing assistant, or just more budget for marketing in general, and the fury rises in me. I stand up, jerking my chair back and thumping my phone down on the desk hard. A voice in my head tells me that this is not taking it easy, but it’s too late, the anger has exploded.

  ‘For Christ’s sake!’ I say, and I don’t care that I’m shouting, that everyone in the office is staring at me, amused and amazed at the sudden sideshow. ‘I told you not to go over my head to David! You need to include me in these discussions, and you can’t make decisions like that without consulting me first! Stop trying to take over everything!’

  And with that, I storm out of the office as quickly as a heavily pregnant woman can, slamming the door behind me.

  THEN

  Ash

  ‘Trust you’re both well?’ David says, gazing at both of us. Is it just me, or is there a little smirk in his eyes as he looks at Helena? Pregnancy hasn’t been kind to her. I noticed this week she now has two distinctive rings running around her neck – must be something to do with the water retention. It would explain her burgeoning double chin, too.

  ‘As well as can be expected at seven and a half months pregnant,’ she replies. There’s a slight scowl on her face, as though she thinks it’s our problem she’s in this situation, but it’s almost as though she notices herself doing it and so she rearranges it into an unconvincing smile. ‘But can’t complain.’

  ‘Well,’ David says. ‘Let’s hope I can cheer you up. I’ve got some exciting news for you both. You can probably guess what I’m about to say . . . I know it’s been a long time coming but Brian has asked for both of you to fly over next week to present KAMU B to the team there. As an initial start, they want to go ahead with the Easter pop-up in New York – as you proposed, Ashley.’

  I see Helena glance at me out of the corner of her eye. Shit. I forgot to cc her in my proposal. Oh well, never mind. She’ll be on maternity leave in a few weeks, anyway, and she knew this was on the cards.

  ‘That’s brilliant!’ I say. ‘Wow. I’ve never been to New York.’

  ‘Helena got married there, didn’t you?’ David says.

  ‘Not married, just honeymooned,’ she replies, her voice as dull as her complexion. ‘That’s great news. What exactly will they be expecting?’

  ‘If you can put together a presentation, that’d be great,’ David replies. ‘Although, to be honest, I think what Ashley’s already pulled together will stand up – we might just need to flesh out some more of the details, put some meat on the bones of the marketing and PR sections, tighten up some of the action points . . .’

  ‘Definitely,’ I say, nodding. ‘I can ask Jodie to run me through what she did; she was brilliant. I think she’d be keen to help out on the next one, in fact. I was wondering if you might consider seconding her for a while? I think she really enjoyed it . . .’

  ‘Really?’ David asks, looking directly at me. How things have changed from the times when it was as though I wasn’t even in the room. ‘I’ll speak to her, see what she thinks. Carly will sort your flights. I think the easiest thing is to go out Monday and return Thursday; that’ll give you both two full days in the office. I’d come with you but, unfortunately, I’ve got rather a lot on helping out with the Australian launch. I’m sure you’ll be just fine without me, and we can put some time in the diary for Friday afternoon to go through everything, just to give you a bit of reassurance.’

  New York. New Bloody York! And they’re going to pay for me to actually go. Gran will be stunned when she finds out. I can’t wait to tell Lauren. Poor Lauren, stuck behind a counter checking people in and checking people out, while I’m swanning off to New York to present my project to the board of directors of a global corporation. Men twice my age with half my potential. I wonder if we’ll be flying business class. It is a business trip, after all . . .

  ‘I . . . I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade here,’ Helena says, butting into my daydreams. ‘But I think I’ll need a doctor’s certificate to fly as I’m over twenty-eight weeks. I’m sure it’s fine but . . .’

  David bites his lip.

  ‘Right,’ he says, and there’s no hiding the hint of irritation in his voice. ‘I don’t want you putting yourself at any risk.’

  ‘No, no, it’s fine, absolutely fine,’ Helena says, and we all know she’s protesting too much – that it’s not fine, and she knows it. ‘It won’t be a problem, I’m in perfect health. Well, apart from my blood pressure, but that’s been all right the last two times it’s been checked. I just need to make sure. Let me confirm before Carly books anything.’

  ‘Sure,’ David says, but he’s barely looking at her, and then he turns back to me. ‘But planning ahead . . . if the worst comes to the worst, Ashley, would you be prepared to go alone?’

  There’s a moment’s hesitation. I can’t bring myself to look at her, because if I do I might not hold my nerve, might think I owe her something, like those idiots on X Factor who refuse to go through to the next round without their less talented singing partners. I think of all the times I’ve had to cope alone over the last few months, all the meetings she’s missed, thanks to her condition. What goes around comes around. I think of Jason, still needling me for cash, my promise that I’ll help him as soon as I get my Christmas bonus.

  ‘Of course,’ I say, squinting slightly so that I can no longer see Helena. I fix my eyes on David, and it’s as if she’s not in the room at all. ‘If that’s what’s needed, then of course I would.’

  THEN

  Helena

  I was determined not to cry. But like everything else I’ve attempted lately, I’ve failed.

  I’m in the toilets, trying to muster up the courage to go into the office. But when I came out of the lift this morning and hobbled towards the door, I looked through to see them all crowded around Ash’s desk, laughing and smiling. Someone’s brought in a Statue of Liberty headband and hung it sideways from Ash’s computer. Since when did they actually start to like her? Jess is the only one who doesn’t seem to have firmly signed up to the Ash is Great Club, and that’s only because she likes attention as much as Ash does.

  I sit on the toilet, sniffing into a tissue. I feel like I’m gradually fading away, despite there being literally more and more of me as each day passes. My swollen feet are killing me, the water floating around under the skin like some kind of hideous heavy jelly that wobbles when I walk, making every step uncomfortable. My back aches, my neck folds over on itself if I look down, my entire body feels swollen and bloated. I want to go home. I don’t want to go into the office and tell Ashley that the doctor has strongly advised I don’t travel. I don’t want to have to watch her pretend to feel sorry for me, watch her portray herself as the hero of the hour, saving KAMU B from the curse that is my pregnancy. But I have no choice.

  But first, I have to see David.

  *

  He’s not there when I arrive, and so I sit in his office, sipping the glass of water Carly brought me. It came accompanied by a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder – she can clearly tell what a mess I’m in. It’s such a different experience, being pitied. Just awful. And Carly’s about twenty-one, she has no idea. Lizzy announced she wasn’t coming back from maternity leave this week, and so Carly’s keeping the job. Lizzy is the only other person at KAMU to have got pregnant since we launched. I so wish she was here.

  David eventually arrives fifteen minutes after the meeting was scheduled to begin, rushing in full of apologies, enquiring after my health in an exhausted voice that tells me he doesn’t really want to know. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but when he finally sits down behind his desk, he looks at me as though I’m a problem he needs to solve, something in his way.

  Once upon a time, h
e wanted to sleep with me. Now, I’m just a nuisance. A fat, pregnant nuisance. I think about Jodie, the new object of his desire, the way she looked away as she saw me pass just now. How many women have there been? Men like him never change.

  ‘I’ve brought the figures you asked for,’ I say, trying to rouse some of the old Helena. ‘They’re improving, month on month, but I agree, they’re not where we’d like them to be.’

  He takes the pages of paper from me and glances through them, sighing, for several seconds, and then places them neatly on his desk, leaning back in his chair.

  ‘I’m not sure what’s going wrong here,’ he says. ‘But perhaps the problem is that people are unwilling to buy products online from a brand they’re not familiar with. At the pop-ups, they get to try them, speak to the people behind them. Perhaps what we need is more social proof on the site itself.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, sighing. ‘I agree. It’s been something I’ve wanted to focus on, but we’ve not had enough marketing support, really. Jodie’s been helping out a lot, but we really need some more investment in the PR to get the brand out there.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ David says. ‘Yes. Right. Leave it with me. I’m going to have a good think about it all. Perhaps . . . perhaps we were a little ambitious going with a dedicated site and team from the get-go . . .’

  My eyes widen.

  ‘But . . .’ I begin, but he holds his hand up to stop me.

  ‘Try not to worry,’ he says. ‘It’ll all come out in the wash. Now about New York . . .’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve not been given permission to fly,’ I say, my voice beginning to tremble. ‘My feet are quite swollen, and the doctor’s worried about the risks of DVT on a long-haul flight. I won’t be able to go.’

  As the words come out, I feel tears rush to my eyes again.

  ‘Oh God,’ I say, but it’s too late as a sob escapes. ‘Sorry. I’m . . . sorry. I’m tired. Shit.’ I scrabble in my pocket for a tissue.