by PH Morris
I get my work gear ready for the next day and make sure that the creases will drop out of the items I left in the case overnight. As I sort out what I need, from the bedroom I hear a buzzer sound and a cacophony of girls’ voices. Opening the door, I am greeted by the girlies from our weekend. They are armed with goodies and flowers.
David is in his element, pouring drinks, and the room is full of laughter and more of David’s silly stories. The girls stay for a few hours, and we laugh at the pedalo on the lake story. I decide on just a couple of drinks, and once everyone has finally left I head off to bed and, although I don’t cry like last night, I still have to have a word with myself otherwise I’m going to look a right mess in the morning.
Chapter 5
Now I live in town, my usual one-hour commute is now a fifteen-minute walk to the office. So, although I get up when my phone alarm goes off, I have loads of time. I grab toast and a quick cup of tea and then head off to work.
It’s a lovely day, I feel tired and emotional, but I am going to be okay.
When I get into the office, I go to find Lou; before I get the chance, the receptionist corners me.
“Nick wants everyone in the conference room as soon as they get in,” she announces. “Something is going on,” she adds, speaking out the side of her mouth in a conspiratorial way even though there is only the two of us. Realising who she’s speaking to, she adds, “Well, you will already know, given that you’re in HR and all that,” and then props her hand under her chin with a look of ‘gimme’ on her face.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Jane, but I don’t know what it’s about.” I smile sweetly.
She stares at me for a long moment, tapping her red nails on her chin, sighs dramatically, and murmurs, “Whatever.”
Thank goodness Lou appears a moment later. I turn towards her, with my back to Jane, and gesture a cutting motion to keep quiet before she can set the hares running and Jane’s mouth running faster. Understanding me completely, Lou pulls me towards the conference room as it’s currently empty.
Before we can get more than a few words out, people start to file in and take seats around the table, offering suggestions about what is going on.
I have a pretty good idea about what is going on, as Nick and I have been working on a partnership over the last few months, but I’d thought it was a dead duck. Before I went away for the weekend it had been; things change, I guess, and in more than my sad life.
Nick walks confidently in, catches my eye and smiles slightly, letting me know it is nothing to worry about and that things have taken an exciting turn.
As he sits, everyone falls silent.
“Thanks, everyone, for coming at such short notice. I do have an announcement, and as I see some concerned faces please don’t be worried, it is good news.” The people around the table let out a collective sigh of relief, before Nick continues:
“As you know, we have been trying to find a possible company to merge with to strengthen our brand. Mel and I have been working on a couple of potential companies. We hadn’t found anyone that we felt represented the same family values as us. As you all know, I spent almost a month in the States and Canada, meeting a few potentials, and we did have a couple of favourites. Anyway, to cut a very long story short, we were able, on Friday, to get an agreement, in principle, with a company similar to ours. They are called Campbells, based in Scotland. We have agreed to form a new partnership between our companies.
“The reason I’m telling you this so soon is that I believe someone from Campbells may be leaking the news to the trade press. So, I wanted you to know before that happened.
“At this stage, we are not making a formal announcement, and it can only be good news for both parties.
“There is nothing for you to do at the moment, but if you could cascade the information to your teams and please let me know if you hear anything. If challenged, I would recommend you hold the party line. I have drafted a statement for you to use; however, any request for a comment outside of the business needs to be directed to Dean in Marketing. I don’t intend to make a big deal of it as, at this stage, it is an agreement in principle only. But you need to be the first to know. Any questions?”
The room erupts into murmurings and questions, many of which Nick answers by repeating his statement. Once the volume has decreased, everyone filters out of the room. I stay behind to speak to Nick. Lou nods to me that she will catch me at lunch.
“You okay?” Nick asks. “You look tired.”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I offer.” So, Campbell, eh? That’s great news; never thought we would get close to that one.”
“Yeah, me neither, but it goes to show that it’s not what you know, but who,” he offers cryptically. “It seems that the chair of Campbell and our chairman go way back; they were at some charity do in Aberdeen, of all places, and got talking. It would seem our agent was too obscure in initial discussions, and when Mr Campbell found out, over dinner, that it was us, he was more than happy to get involved. It’s the right fit, size, etc.”
“Wow, that’s great, Nick. So, what next?”
“Well, nothing at the moment, still a lot of pre-work happening behind the scenes; if and when I know anything, you will be the first to know.”
We leave the conference room and walk towards his office, luckily in the opposite direction to the receptionist, whose radar is probably better than the Hubble telescope on a clear day.
“Anyway, enough about work, for now. Tell me what’s been going on with you. Is that good for nothing boyfriend of yours being a dick again?” he grumbled
Wait… what? “Why does everyone think he’s a problem, and why is he a dick AGAIN?”
“Sorry, Mel, but that guy is not good enough for you: he’s stolen your sparkle, and he lets you down all the time. So, as I’m guessing, am I right? Tell me what he’s done.”
“He finished with me,” I say in an almost whisper.
I realise that Nick has stopped walking, when he speaks from behind me, “He did what? What an absolute dick. What is that guy’s problem? I’m sorry, Mel, I didn’t mean to be so negative, but you do deserve better than him.”
“Thanks, Nick, it’s been rough, but I am trying to get on with stuff, so if you can make me super busy at work that would be great to keep my mind off it.”
“Well, be careful what you wish for; if this Campbell thing goes ahead, we are going to be very busy.” He starts walking again.
“Listen, Mel,” he continues, “I’m just a bloke and not very good at that girly stuff you and Lou do, but I can go to his and punch his lights out.”
“Thanks, Nick, as tempting as that might be, we might just need you in the office and not serving time for ABH, so I will just imagine that you’ve punched his lights out and that should make us both feel better, agreed?”
“Okay, agreed,” he sighs. He turns to walk away, then stops, turning back. “If you need some time, we can sort something.”
“I’m fine, Nick, honestly, I’m doing okay, but I will let you know if I change my mind; and if I get all weepy and snotty, yours will be the first shoulder I cry on.”
“Eww, no thanks, keep the tears and snot to yourself, but if you need the time, take it.”
“Noted, and thanks, Nick.”
“No probs!” he shouts over his shoulder as he heads to his office.
At lunch, over our usual coffees, Lou and I discuss my ex-boyfriend and the Campbell news: in the first conversation, Lou re-names Mark ‘Knobby Chops’; and in the second, we use our secret language of not mentioning the actual names but referring to ‘What Nick said’.
I update Lou on my new flatmate and living in Manchester, and what seems to excite her the most is the prospect of crashing at mine if she’s had one too many and misses her last train. I keep explaining that it’s not ‘mine’, but I might as well talk to the wall.
/> The rest of the week passes by in a blur of work, reports, lunches, and a myriad of texts from the girls.
The weekend comes around, and on Saturday I head off to see my folks to ensure that they genuinely believe I’m okay. Seeing is believing, and my mum hugs me before looking me up and down, at arm’s length, as if I am going to have some visible evidence of distress. Dad rolls his eyes over Mum’s shoulder and winks at me conspiratorially.
Over several cups of tea, I can tell Mum and Dad are trying hard not to go on a slagging-off session at Mark’s expense.
Mum and Dad are both retired teachers and moved to the South Lakes a few years ago. I always reflect fondly on my childhood, although I know I wasn’t an easy child. They seemed to have an unlimited store of patience.
My mum and dad have always been there for me… well, since I moved to live with them when I was two. I had a rough start in life, although I don’t recall much before I started school at four. My mum and dad adopted me because my birth family couldn’t care for me. Well, those were the kind words they used to describe their choice of drink and drugs over my nappies and formula.
I never felt the need to be in touch with them, but I was aware that I had an extended birth family. My parents said that they would help me, when I was ready, to contact them and, out of morbid curiosity, I decided I would do precisely that.
After I turned eighteen, I received a file from social services, and that was one hell of a read. My birth family was volatile, my house was chaotic and my bedroom filthy. There were cases of domestic disturbances, and the police got involved on many occasions. Social services got involved when some unknown individuals were found at the house, and the bins were overflowing with rubbish and empty bottles of strong lager and cheap vodka. It doesn’t take a genius to understand why the decision was made to remove me from my birth family.
Even with this knowledge and realising that the right decision was made for the right reason, and although I enjoyed a delightful life punctuated with amazing experiences and a lifetime of love, I would speculate about the people who’d had me. I always wondered if they were out there, thinking of me. I had watched enough of the TV programme Long Lost Family to see the wonderful reunions where there was no blame or guilt on either side.
I guessed it would be nice to have some questions answered. For example, did they love me? Did they think of me much over the years? I did have some pictures in my life book of my birth mum and dad, but there weren’t many, and I wondered what they looked like now and did I look like them at all?
Social services helped with linking me with my birth family. I decided to ask my best friend, Kate, to come with me on the day rather than my mum and dad, as I didn’t want it to be distressing for them. They insisted that they wanted to support me, but I also knew they respected my wishes enough to let me do it my way. Kate and I drove the 100 or so miles to the Midlands and met on neutral territory at a high street cafe. We were early and I was a nervous wreck, filled with excitement and anticipation. We sat facing the entrance so I could see people arrive.
Two women walked in, along with a younger girl about two years my junior. This lady, who I assumed was my birth mum, her sister, who looked like her, and my cousin. The conversation was stilted at first and overly loud and dramatic.
“So, this is your auntie Jayne and your sister Anne Marie,” she introduced the two people sitting opposite me.
Then everything went into slow motion. “Sister?” I whispered. “I didn’t know I had a sister.”
“Hi,” I smiled weakly. “This must be weird, I bet.”
“Not really,” she snapped at me without looking away from her phone. “I knew all about you.” The way she said it, it was like I was an unpleasant secret.
“Oh right, well, I didn’t know anything about you,” I countered. “How old are you?” I asked in what I thought was a kind voice.
“Old enough,” she said snarkily.
“Oh, pack it in, Anne Marie, you’re a little bitch.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ma, get a grip; you’re just actin’ all la-de-da cos she’s ‘ere.”
“I swear I’m gonna ring your neck, lady.”
I couldn’t believe this was the way the meeting was going. I had so many questions; now I was here, I didn’t want to know any of the responses. These people were toxic. I wasn’t a prude, and I could swear like the next person, but the way they talked to each other was shocking and awful to listen to, and I was embarrassed at the pure volume of it, and I looked around the room to see who might be watching.
I discovered that I didn’t need to ask much – these guys had verbal diarrhoea.
The only questions they asked me focused on the house I grew up in, what my parents did for a job. Anne Marie asked about my friend Kat as if she wasn’t even sitting there and asked a lot of questions about school. It seemed to me that she was checking to see if I had somehow been to a private school. She seemed pleased with herself when I said I had gone to a regular high school.
I asked about my birth dad, and she explained with a sneer that he had disappeared a few years ago. I think I heard Anne Marie mutter the word “Tosser”, but I didn’t know if she meant our birth Dad or me and I didn’t ask.
The get-together came to an end with odd fake hugs from my birth mum and auntie, and a look that could curdle cream from my sister.
A couple of hours later I was back in my friend’s car and heading back home, feeling hollow and crushed.
“Well, that was something, “Kate offered.
“Yeah, something,” was all I could say.
“Mel, you didn’t know anything about Anne Marie, I take it?”
“No, nothing.”
We didn’t say much else as Kate drove me home and I thanked her for her support.
When I got home, she stayed for a while, and I managed to walk through the door before I started crying.
“What happened? I swear to god, I will bloody kill them,” I heard my dad mutter to my mum.
“Sssh, let her speak; it’s overwhelming for her,” she offered. “But I knew we should have gone with her.”
“They had another kid,” I said through the sobs. “Another daughter twenty month younger than me.”
“Oh, love, no! We didn’t know.” My mum enveloped me in her arms.
Then I managed to get out the words that most bothered me. “They didn’t look after me, but they had another kid and kept her.”
That was the crux of the matter for me. I would always be grateful for the life I had been given, but why wasn’t I kept, and they were allowed to keep that god-awful kid I met today? I was a good girl, wasn’t I? Good enough?
My mum and dad were brilliant; they helped me, as they always had, to understand that I was more than good enough, despite the nagging doubts.
I didn’t have much contact with my birth family again, but my birth mum sent me a friend request on social media. I didn’t want to accept because I felt that it would taint my lovely life, but I felt rude not doing so. So, I just messaged her rather than accepting her as a friend.
A few months later, she sent me a message that shocked me but didn’t surprise me. She told me that she was having problems, that she was struggling with her rent, and could I help her out with just a bit of cash? She said she would pay me back.
There was no way I was going send her any money and replied to say I couldn’t. More messages arrived starting with a pleading tone and then became more insistent, then aggressive and downright rude.
After that, I didn’t hear anything from anyone, and I was glad of that.
That was six years ago; and no matter what happened in all my years, my mum and dad were my rock. They understood me and were always there no matter what. That to me was family, it was safe and predictable. Reflecting on my bullshit-ometer, I wonder why it never recognised Mark’s behaviour; well
, I guess love gets in the way of that.
Chapter 6
The next few weeks are the usual routine at work, and May comes to an end and June disappears. David and I have lots of fun, both in the apartment and in and around the bars near the apartment. I love my new existence.
One evening, we plan our usual night in of cooking and baking, and I’m trying to make this a special one as David is off on a long-haul to LA. He’s not going to be around for a week or so as he has a couple of days off when he gets there, the lucky devil. To say that I am green with envy would be an understatement. David promises me that he will take me one day.
We had already agreed on a combo of my Thai red curry and his pineapple upside-down cake. As I am rummaging through the cupboards, I realise that we have no rice left.
David is in the shower, and I shout through the crack in the door that I am nipping to the shops. He yells back, asking me to get him some shaving foam.
The little Sainsbury’s Local is on the next corner, and I grab my purse and keys and head out the door.
I’m perusing the aisles and find the rice easily; the next aisle is the men’s toiletries, and I’m looking at a range of products – shaving foam, shaving oil, gel for sensitive skin. I don’t know which product he uses, but I decide he won’t do cheap and cheerful, so I select something mid-range. I’m turning the can over in my hand, and I don’t notice someone walk towards me. As I stand upright and turn at the same time, I walk right into a white-shirted chest.
“Oh god, I’m sorry.”
“Mel?”
“Mark?”
“What are you doing here?” we both say simultaneously
“You look well,” he offers, and I realise that I am wearing a summer dress and strappy sandals and not much make-up.
Oh, shit. “Err thanks, I just popped out to grab a few things.”