The Puzzle of You

by Leah Mercer

  And even as they walk down the pavement together, they’ve never seemed further apart.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  20 October

  Anabelle is crying, but I had to write. My mind is buzzing – with ideas, with thoughts, with excitement. Because something happened today. Something that yanked me out of the protected place I was in . . . something signalling that maybe, after almost a year with my baby, I’m ready to open up again. Anabelle will stay my top priority, of course. I’ll never stray from that; I won’t let myself. But perhaps it’s time to start thinking about letting the world back in.

  I was hauling the buggy frame in one hand and Anabelle in the other up the stairs when my mobile rang. Assuming it was David calling to say he’d be late yet again, I grabbed it from my back pocket and barked, ‘Yes?’ without even looking to see who was ringing.

  ‘Charlotte, hello. It’s Vivek.’ The voice in my ears was a blast from the not-so-distant past, and I froze, trying to get a grip on my past crashing into my reality.

  ‘Vivek! Hi.’ My voice was breathless. Wrestling with the buggy frame, my daughter squirming in my grip, I cradled the phone between my shoulder and my ear and managed to open the door. In the process, the phone slipped from my grasp and skidded across the floorboards.

  Shit! I dropped the buggy and ushered Anabelle inside, plopped her down in her cot to keep her contained and scooped up the phone.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ I said, trying to sound like I had everything under control.

  Vivek laughed. ‘Don’t worry. Are you all right to talk now? It won’t be for long, I promise.’

  ‘Um, sure,’ I answered, my mind spinning as I sank on to the sofa. What on earth could he be calling about? The last time we’d spoken was when I quit . . . when my world had been swirling in a storm of guilt, fear and exhaustion. I peered into the bedroom, where Anabelle was bouncing on the cot mattress, inches from hitting her chin on the bars. I cringed, praying she’d stay quiet and injury-free for the next ten minutes.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ Vivek said. ‘If you’re anything like my wife, you probably don’t have a second to spare. I know what it’s like with kids.’

  ‘It is pretty crazy,’ I said, that strange discomfort sliding over me at my new role as stay-at-home mum. It felt even more disconcerting talking to my boss, who’d only known me in a professional capacity.

  ‘Right, well, Ed’s assigning someone to pitch to Avema to renew their contract, and we couldn’t find the last presentation you’d done for them. I told him you wouldn’t mind a quick phone call to ask. It’s not like you’re with a competitor or anyone.’ Vivek’s voice was jolly, and my gut clenched. No, it wasn’t like I was working for a competitor. It wasn’t like I was working at all. A spark of jealousy crackled through me, and I shoved it away. I couldn’t be jealous of Ed, the half-wit who’d taken over from me when I went on maternity leave.

  ‘Oh, sure.’ I cast my mind back, surprised at how quickly the information filtered into my brain. ‘It’ll be saved on the desktop, under the “pitch presentations”. They should all be arranged alphabetically.’

  ‘Hmm, well, Ed got a laptop upgrade when he was made VP,’ Vivek said. ‘I’m not sure if the folders are still in the same place.’

  ‘VP?’ I almost dropped the phone again. I couldn’t have heard that correctly. He’d only just started a few months ago! ‘Ed is VP of business development?’

  ‘Yes, he’s really exceeded our expectations,’ Vivek said, and I could barely move for the jealousy churning inside me. ‘The team love him, and he gave a solid, inspiring presentation to the board to bid for the position. He was the best candidate by far.’

  After me, of course, I longed to add, but obviously I’d crossed myself off the list.

  ‘But what about you?’ My voice came out shaky, and I cleared my throat. ‘You’re not actually leaving, are you?’

  ‘I guess the grapevine doesn’t travel all the way to Chelsea,’ Vivek joked. ‘Well, I’ve decided it’s finally time to retire. I’m taking off next week – just sticking around now to make sure Ed has everything in order.’

  I sagged back on the sofa, anger rushing through me. I could have been VP. I should have been VP. I’d put in the years of hard work and training under Vivek. I’d excelled, I’d led the team and I’d been primed to take over.

  The only thing I’d done wrong was have a baby.

  My anger deflated suddenly, like a balloon had burst . . . because that wasn’t the only thing I’d done wrong, not by a long shot. I’d made the right choice to leave, beyond a doubt. I’d never regret that. And of course I could never be VP, not now, not with Anabelle. I couldn’t even risk returning to Cellbril, let alone taking on a position with more responsibility.

  ‘You don’t have the presentation on a memory stick or saved anywhere else, by any chance, do you?’ Vivek’s voice cut into my thoughts.

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ I pulled myself out of the cloud of emotion and tried to focus on his words. ‘But listen, tell Ed that whoever’s pitching to Avema needs to remember . . .’ And I was off, information rolling from my tongue so easily it was like it had been waiting to be resurrected. ‘Tell him to call me if he has any questions,’ I continued. ‘And—’

  ‘I will,’ Vivek interrupted. ‘Thanks for all this; it’s been really helpful. But listen, I can hear your baby crying, so I’d better let you go. Thanks again, Charlotte.’

  And with that, he was gone. I jerked towards Anabelle, for the first time hearing her screams. I hurried over to the cot and picked her up, rocking her back and forth as I struggled to get a grip on the feelings rocketing through me. It had felt so good to talk about something I knew so much about – besides sleep schedules and weaning, that is. It had felt good to have someone ask me to contribute, even if it was just the location of a presentation.

  I wanted more of that. I needed more of that, I realised suddenly. A blind had been yanked open inside, letting light stream in. I didn’t want to close it again. I’d never go back to Cellbril, to the dark place where I risked my child. But maybe I could find a new way forward: a part-time job, a less intensive position, somewhere I could use my brain again.

  I took a deep breath and set Anabelle on the floor, grinning as she lurched towards the sofa with her arms raised in victory. Walking before she’s even a year old! I couldn’t be prouder. She’s ready to widen her world, and maybe it’s time to take a page from my baby daughter’s book.

  It’s been a year of uncertainty, of guilt and of fear, but that year is almost over. We made it through, and while I’ll never forgive myself – never forget what I did; never dream of putting anything above my child again – perhaps it’s time to start a new chapter.

  I am ready now, and I can’t wait.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Even though the pouring rain traps Charlotte and Anabelle indoors, the day still passes quickly . . . well, relatively quickly. It’s amazing how having something else to focus on – something besides her daughter – helps the hours tick by. Bedtime comes and goes, and Charlotte hardly knows where the time went. Okay, so only part of her brain was engaged with Anabelle, but you hardly need full brainpower to build up and knock down a set of bricks over and over. She nods and smiles, her mind running through what she needs to do to start her quest for gainful employment.

  Having something to keep her mind off David’s bombshell has been useful, too. Sitting beside him in the quiet concert hall last night had been pure torture. A million words had swirled through her head – words laced with fury, with pleas, with love. But when the lights had come on and they could talk again, she’d been paralysed, unable to release even one sentence. She still can’t believe he’s moving away, and she has absolutely no idea where they’ll go from here. Bump along in separate lives until they finally call it quits and get divorced? She shudders just thinking of the ‘d’ word in relation to them . . . or, at least, the ‘them’ they used to be.


  Once Anabelle is asleep, Charlotte realises with a start that she’s barely genuinely interacted with her daughter all day . . . and she actually misses her. Anabelle was such a good girl, in high spirits and full of giggles. Charlotte really should have taken advantage of that and done something other than activities involving the least possible amount of input. Anabelle had begged constantly for watercolours, but Charlotte had put her off.

  I’ll make more of an effort tomorrow, she tells herself, pushing aside the rogue guilt that pricks her. Right now, she needs to work on finding a job.

  First things first: she’ll talk to Vivek. Fingers crossed he hasn’t retired . . . Despite his rumblings, she’d give him a good ten years yet. Like her mother, work is his life. When he finds out that Charlotte wants to return, hopefully he’ll be able to ease her way back in. After all, she is – was – his prodigy, and she did bring in one of the biggest contracts the company had ever seen. She sighs when it hits her that, actually, that was over four years ago. Still, her skills are invaluable, and it would definitely be easier to jump-start her career at a place she knows so well.

  Charlotte glances at the clock. It’s just after seven in the evening – Anabelle went down early for once – and Vivek will probably be in the office for another good few hours yet. Heart racing, she picks up her mobile and flicks through her contacts, clicking on his office number. It might be a call from the blue, but as Vivek always says, why bother emailing if you can ring? She’ll show him she hasn’t forgotten his advice.

  She hits ‘Call’ and waits for a response, praying that Anabelle stays asleep.

  ‘Ed Salter here.’

  Charlotte yanks the phone from her ear. Ed Salter? Who the hell is that, and why is he answering Vivek’s line?

  ‘Hi, Ed. It’s Charlotte McKay.’ She pretends to know who he is, trying hard to keep her breathing even. Vivek’s first rule of thumb is never to let anyone know you can’t remember them.

  ‘Charlotte McKay . . .’ He pauses, and she rolls her eyes. Clearly this Ed bloke needs more training.

  ‘I used to work there a few years ago, before I went off on maternity leave?’ she says, trying not to reveal her exasperation when it becomes clear he won’t be moving on until she identifies herself. Maybe they’ve never met, but this man really should learn how to bluff.

  ‘Oh yes! Charlotte! God, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I took over from you when you went off on mat leave, didn’t I? How’s the little one?’

  ‘Brilliant.’ This clown took over from her when she left? She feels sorry for her accounts . . . and almost relieved, for once, that she doesn’t remember. It must have been torturous passing over her hard-won clients to someone else, even if she had thought it’d be just for a short time. ‘Listen, is Vivek around?’

  ‘Vivek?’ There’s a pause, and Ed lets out a low laugh. ‘You really have been out of the loop, haven’t you?’

  More than out the loop, she thinks. More like out of her mind – not that she’d ever let Ed know that. Is her former boss all right? she wonders. He always did work too hard. Despite all his talk of retirement, he used to joke that when his time was up, he’d be happy to pass on to the next world from the comfort of his office. In fact, one of the last things she remembers is him telling her to simply roll his chair out when he’s gone and take over.

  ‘Didn’t you know he retired?’ Ed asks, when it’s obvious she’s not going to say anything.

  Retired? So he actually went through with it. Charlotte’s heart sinks as she realises her biggest champion is gone – and the position she’d been driving towards for years has been filled by someone else. ‘Oh yes, I did know that,’ she fibs. ‘It’s just, I heard he was still around the office from time to time, and I thought I might drop him a line. To, er, get a reference.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know who you heard that from, but he hasn’t been in since he left, about . . . two and a half years ago now? Moved to Spain, apparently. Life in the sun and all that. But listen, I’d be happy to give you a reference. As the VP and everything.’

  Charlotte freezes. ‘You’re the new VP?’ Her maternity cover – who’s been at the company for a fraction of the time she had – has bagged the VP position she’s been eyeing for ages? Anger sweeps over her and she tries her best to keep her tone steady.

  ‘Well, not so new any more,’ Ed says. ‘But listen, I could really use someone like you on the team, if you’re thinking of coming back. You’d need to do a refresher course on all the new pitching techniques I’ve developed, but at least we wouldn’t have to train you from scratch. We only have a junior position available right now, but it’s a good place to get warmed up. I’m sure it’d all come back to you, just like riding a bike.’ He lets out a jovial laugh that Charlotte’s clearly expected to join in with, but all she can do is grit her teeth.

  Refresher course? Junior position?

  ‘And it goes without saying that we need someone insanely dedicated,’ Ed continues. ‘Like, two hundred per cent dedicated. No leaving early for the school run or working from home if your kiddie is sick. I’ve implemented a strict office-only working policy, and you wouldn’t believe how much more efficient we are.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Charlotte manages to spit out, thinking how messed up it is that she, who’s worked at the company years longer than Ed, would need to prove her commitment. ‘I appreciate the kind offer, but I’ve had other offers more commensurate with my experience.’ She’d never return to her old office as a junior, going right back to where she started over ten years ago. Obviously Ed wants to lord his new position over her and show her who’s boss. Even if he had offered her an account director position, she wouldn’t want to work with him, anyway.

  ‘Good luck,’ Ed says. ‘But the offer still stands. Do let me know if you’d like to take me up on it at any point.’

  When hell freezes over, Charlotte thinks, but she manages a polite goodbye.

  Right. Well, so much for that. She takes a deep breath, reminding herself that it has been over three years since she left. Of course things would have changed at her old company, although Vivek retiring was the last thing she’d expected . . . about as likely as a new hire becoming VP. Had she known back then that Vivek was planning to leave so soon? Would it have made the slightest bit of difference? Or was she too worried about her daughter, too much in love with her new life as a mother, that it would have just rolled off her . . . even if she could have been VP? Resentment tugs at her insides.

  There’s no point dwelling on the past – what’s done is done. Determination rushes into her, and she grabs her laptop. She may not be VP at her old company, but she’ll find something better, if it’s the last thing she does. Junior position – as if.

  As she opens her laptop lid, her brain is already skipping ahead to next steps. If returning to her old company isn’t a possibility – and it definitely isn’t; she’d rather eat her own arm than work under Ed – then she’ll need to get that reference from Vivek and update her CV. Perhaps she already has a reference on file somewhere?

  She taps in her password and navigates to the folder where she keeps all her work files. No, no letter. God. What had she been thinking, leaving her job without even requesting a reference? She may not have been keen to go back to work at the time, but had she planned never to work again? That’s all right, she tells herself. She must have Vivek’s personal mobile number somewhere – if he hasn’t changed it, that is. She’ll hunt for it later.

  Okay, time to work on her CV. She smiles, thinking of the last time she remembers updating it. Vivek had marched over to her workstation, telling her that after winning the company’s most lucrative contract, it was high time she got promoted to senior account director . . . and team lead. All he needed was an updated résumé of her ‘many and varied accomplishments’ to give to HR, and he’d get on it. She’d spent the rest of the day in a glow, typing up the document. When she’d scanned the finished product, she’d felt incredibly proud. She’d
worked hard and she deserved this step up.

  She squints as documents filter on to the screen, her brow furrowing as she notices that the most recent CV isn’t from before she was promoted, but from only two years ago – when Anabelle would have been just a year old. Hmm. Why would she have been going through old CVs if she’d never planned on going back to work? Perhaps she’d needed it for something else – volunteering, maybe? Running one of those playgroups she seems to have been so involved in? It’s still so hard to believe she did nothing for three years. Well, nothing except toddler-wrangling.

  Three years. Okay, so it wasn’t too long, but in her industry – where keeping up with ever-changing regulations, maintaining your network of contacts and staying on top of the constantly evolving landscape of companies were essential – it was a little . . . challenging. She herself had interviewed women who’d taken significant time out to have families, and she’d never once recommended hiring them for those very reasons. Given the choice between hiring someone who’d been living in another world and a candidate who’d been working in the industry, she’d always selected the one with current experience. It just made better business sense, but the memory makes her wince now. Maybe she should have given those women a chance. If they could deal with demanding toddlers day and night, they’d be more than capable of handling clients.

  Hopefully she’ll come across an employer who thinks the same way. They must exist, right? She’ll study up on current regulations, and with this CV – ending with securing that huge global trial for a new psoriasis drug – her list of accomplishments should be enough to overcome the barrenness of the past few years. At least she finished on a high note.

  But wait – that wasn’t how her time at the company had ended, was it? She bites her lip, thinking that she doesn’t actually know how it ended, apart from the fact that she took maternity leave and then, at some point, said she wouldn’t be back. Vivek wouldn’t have been thrilled with that move, that’s for sure. Is that why she doesn’t have a reference?