Climbing the Ladder

by Amanda Radley

She turned around. A tall, blonde woman in jeans and a loose t-shirt with a band logo that Chloe wasn’t cool enough to recognise walked towards her. She was smiling brightly and held her hand out in greeting.

  Chloe stood up and shook her hand. “That’s me.”

  “Great! Welcome to the team. I’m Nic, if you need anything relating to photography then I’m your woman.” She reached into the pocket of the leather jacket on the back of the chair and handed Chloe a business card.

  “Thank you.” Chloe looked at the card enviously. “I love photography. I mean, I know I’m useless at it, but I love it.”

  At university she had studied programming, marketing, and photography, hoping that her skills would improve enough for her to become professional. Sadly, she just didn’t have a grasp on the technical details, and it never happened.

  “No one is useless at photography,” Nic reassured her. “It’s in the eye of the beholder. An interest is enough.”

  Chloe chuckled. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw some of my stuff. I studied at university, but I had to drop out.”

  Nic dropped herself into her chair and swung her feet up onto the desk.

  “Drop out?” She gasped scandalously.

  Chloe sat back down. “Yeah, I took on too many classes. Had to drop one, it ended up being the thing I was bad at!”

  “I want to see this terrible, dropout-worthy portfolio,” Nic said. “Bring it in.”

  Chloe blushed. “No way, it’s really bad. I’m not even kidding. I thought I was artistic and deep…”

  Nic laughed. “Yeah, we all go through that phase. Seriously, bring something in. I’d love to look at it. Not to laugh at—well, that too. But if you have a genuine interest then I might be able to give you some hints and tips. If you’re passionate about it, then you shouldn’t let a bad experience put you off.”

  Chloe hadn’t thought about photography for a long time. After she’d left the course, she’d sold her camera, boxed up her portfolio, and never really looked at it again. She didn’t have a professional camera anymore, but she was forever playing with the settings on her smartphone. Technology had moved on so much that the quality was amazing, there were even movies being filmed entirely on iPhones these days.

  She loved her digital work, but the call to do something creative had always been at the back of her mind. Even if it was as a hobby. And now, being single, she definitely had time for a hobby.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “But I’m warning you. My teacher left, I think she had a breakdown.”

  Nic smiled. “I love a challenge!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darcy looked up at the laughter coming from the digital department. She let out a soft sigh. While she was glad that Chloe was making friends with Nicola, she also knew that it would make her day impossible.

  She subtly glanced up and, sure enough, Fiona was staring daggers at the laughing couple. She rolled her eyes and opened up a new email to Rose. Despite Rose sitting next to her, they often emailed each other. Fiona’s hearing could put dogs to shame.

  * * *

  I think you should go and get Nicola before Fiona implodes. She’s here to talk to us anyway.

  * * *

  She sent the email, and out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Rose open it. A moment later, Rose pushed her chair away from her desk and got to her feet. She strolled over to the bank of desks and leaned her arms across Chloe and Nicola’s chairs and started to talk to them.

  Darcy stood up to reach for something in her in-tray. She glanced at Fiona as she did. Fiona’s jaw was tight as she glared at her monitor, clearly pretending to be unaffected by the friendly chatter going on. Darcy sat back down.

  She wondered if her crush on Celia was as transparent as Fiona’s crush on Nicola. She hoped not. She hoped she wasn’t sending laser beams out every time Helen touched Celia’s upper arm when they shared a joke. She bristled. In truth, the action was most annoying, she wished Helen wasn’t so tactile.

  She wished Fiona would just get herself together and go talk to Nicola. She clearly had feelings for the carefree photographer. Yet she spent her time stewing alone whenever Nicola was in the office.

  It was ridiculous, Fiona had a chance at happiness. There was nothing stopping her from speaking to Nicola and finding out if there was anything there. If there wasn’t, Fiona had the opportunity to move on with her life.

  She glanced at her boss again. She was attractive. Not as attractive as Celia, in her opinion. But she was sure that many women would consider Fiona to be beautiful. If rich brown eyes and glossy black hair were their thing. And Fiona was intelligent, cultured, and had a good job.

  She looked over at Nicola and decided that she would be lucky to be with someone like Fiona. Darcy liked Nicola, she was funny and lively. She wasn’t someone she’d ever consider dating, but Fiona clearly liked her. And had done for some time if the temperature plummeting in the office every time Nicola appeared was anything to go by.

  Something had obviously happened to turn her usually confident boss into an uptight, frightened mouse every time she was around. Darcy didn’t know what that was, but she wished it would end. One way or another.

  She focused on her work again. It was none of her business. If Fiona wanted to let happiness slip by without doing anything, that was up to her. Darcy wasn’t about to make the same mistake. She’d make sure that Celia saw her somehow. Even if it meant finding out that Celia didn’t want anything to do with her, at least she’d know. She wouldn’t waste her life.

  Of course, she wasn’t going to stalk her. Much. She wasn’t a complete freak. She knew not to go to Celia’s house, which she had found through online records. But bumping into her at public events and in the office, that was perfectly acceptable.

  A loud laugh echoed across the office. Apparently, Rose had decided to join the conversation rather than break it up.

  “Darcy,” Fiona snapped. “Go and get Rose and Nicola so we can start this damn meeting.”

  Darcy stood up.

  Yes, her day was going to be hell.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I’ll be back in around an hour,” Helen told Kim as she breezed past her, bag in hand.

  “No problem.” Kim smiled.

  The moment Helen was out of sight, the smile fell away. Her stomach clenched and churned with stress. She hated that she had broken Helen’s trust in her. She hated that Helen had no idea that she had done so. If Helen knew, it would undoubtedly be horrendous, but at least she’d be punished for her actions. Keeping the secret was somehow worse than being caught.

  She’d tossed and turned all night, thinking about what to do. On one hand, she wanted Helen to trust her. On the other, she wanted Lucy to trust her. Either way, she was going to have to upset one of them.

  Kim couldn’t lie. If Lucy were made redundant and she asked Kim directly if she had known, she knew it would be written all over her face. It was still early days, but she was falling in love with Lucy. It wasn’t the right time to say so, but she knew in her heart that it was only a matter of time until she did.

  But all of that would be over in a flash if Lucy found out that Kim knew her job was in trouble and didn’t say anything.

  On the other hand, Helen was her boss. Someone who could make her daily life a living hell, if she wanted. Not that Helen would ever do something like that. Which made it all the harder to break a confidence. Helen was the best boss she’d ever had. The thought of Helen being disappointed in her was heart breaking.

  But Lucy came first. And, Kim reasoned, Helen never had to know. If Lucy found another job and left, it would help everyone. Lucy would be out of the literal firing line, and Helen wouldn’t have to act on Christine’s suggestion. The only person who would suffer would be Kim, as she wrestled with keeping the truth from Helen.

  She looked over the top of her monitor. Darcy was herding Rose and Nicola into a meeting room. Fiona was picking up her notepad and preparing to follow them in. Now was
her chance.

  She got up and picked up a folder, doing her best to try to look official. She walked over to the marketing desks and sat at the empty one beside Lucy.

  “Hey babe,” Lucy greeted, still focusing on typing an email.

  “Hey. I… I need to talk to you,” Kim whispered.

  Lucy’s hands paused on the keyboard. She looked around the office in case anyone was listening in. “What’s wrong?”

  They hadn’t been together long, but Lucy was very adept at picking up Kim’s feelings. She instantly knew when something wasn’t right.

  “I know something,” Kim admitted. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

  “Okay,” Lucy agreed. She leaned in closer. “What’s up?”

  “I… saw an email I shouldn’t have. Well, I have access to the mailbox so technically I can view the emails in there… but I generally don’t. It’s not a personal email account as such, but—”

  “Kim, breathe,” Lucy said.

  Kim sucked in a quick breath. “I saw an email from Christine to Helen. She suggested making you redundant and outsourcing your role.”

  Lucy’s already pale face became ghostly white. She opened and then closed her mouth, processing the news.

  “I don’t know if Helen’s even seen it. And if she has, I don’t know if she plans to do anything about it. She’s been dead against losing staff members. But Christine is CEO, she could technically overrule any of Helen’s decisions,” Kim waffled on. She wanted to give Lucy time to process.

  “Wow, right… Okay,” Lucy said. “I literally spent the last hour telling Rose to stop looking for new jobs because we’re all safe here.”

  “You can’t tell anyone that you know,” Kim repeated.

  “I know, I know. I won’t, don’t worry,” Lucy reassured. She placed her hand on Kim’s thigh. “Thank you for telling me. I really appreciate the heads-up. I know it wasn’t easy.”

  Kim brushed a lock of auburn curls behind Lucy’s ear. “Come over for dinner tonight, I’ll cook.”

  Lucy smiled and leaned into Kim’s hand. “Not tonight, how about the next night? I’d be rubbish company. I need to get my CV sorted out and start looking for new jobs. I can’t afford to be out of work, my savings account was eaten up by car problems last year.”

  Kim nodded in understanding. “Okay, the next night. I’ll make that curry you love.”

  “Aw, look at the lovebirds,” Tess joked lightly as she walked back from the photocopier.

  Kim chuckled. They both sat up and waited for Tess to pass by.

  “If you need anything, let me know,” Kim said. “And remember—”

  “Don’t say a word, I know,” Lucy promised. “Thank you for telling me, I know that must have been really difficult.”

  Kim tried to shrug nonchalantly, but she knew Lucy would see right through her.

  “I promise I won’t say anything. Helen won’t ever know,” Lucy reassured her.

  Kim nodded. She didn’t know how to explain that there was a part of her that wanted Helen to know. A part of her that hated secrecy and lies. She’d rather deal with the fallout than with lying further. Most people would be delighted to get away with it. But Kim’s moral compass was spinning around like a gyroscope and it made her sick.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chloe sensed a presence behind her. It felt menacing. She imagined it was what the heroine in a horror movie felt when she was being watched through a window.

  She turned around. Unsurprisingly, Pippa stood behind her. Arms folded and looking irritated.

  “I want to speak to you about some issues with the digital edition,” Pippa announced. She turned to Natasha. “Do I speak to you about them, or her?”

  Chloe bristled at being referred to as “her.” And being spoken about as if she wasn’t right there. She hoped Natasha would deal with Pippa and tell her to learn some manners while she was at it. She looked at Natasha, begging with her eyes to be rescued.

  “You can speak to Chloe about that,” Natasha said before returning her attention to her work.

  Traitor, Chloe thought.

  “Right, well, the page flip on the digital edition is broken,” Pippa said. “It needs to be fixed.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Chloe asked.

  “If you look at it, you’ll find out,” Pippa said unhelpfully. “Also, there’s an issue with the header fonts. We do have a style guide, it has been provided to you. And yet, still, after six months of talking myself hoarse about the importance of continuity between our digital and print editions—nothing.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Chloe said. She didn’t know why she was apologising. It certainly wasn’t her fault. “I’ll look into it.”

  “Well, while you’re there, maybe you can figure out why the contact form boxes need to be so small. They are like a speck. I know we expect all of our readers to be young and perfectly abled but some of them need these.” She pulled her glasses from the top of her head and waved them in Chloe’s face.

  If you need them, why are they on your head instead of your face? Chloe thought. But she wouldn’t dare say anything. She was beginning to understand why she had been repeatedly warned by multiple people about Pippa.

  “I’ll… look into that as well.”

  “There are a lot of issues with the digital edition. But I think I’ll wait and see your response on these before I waste my breath giving you the next batch of fixes.” She turned on her heel and left.

  Chloe let out a deep sigh and slowly turned back to her desk.

  “The page flip is out of the box and can’t be changed, the header is the same but displays slightly differently on the iPad, and the contact form is completely standard size,” Natasha said.

  Chloe frowned. “Then, why—”

  “I have explained it all to her. Multiple times.” Natasha looked up and met Chloe’s eyes. “She doesn’t like the page flip. Doesn’t understand the difference in print and digital fonts. And doesn’t wear her glasses.”

  “So, she thinks they are all fixes, but really they’re…”

  “Personal preferences,” Natasha finished. “Exactly.”

  Chloe sagged into her chair. Dealing with Pippa wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, it was going to be a lot more difficult than she thought. How did you fix things that weren’t broken? She could already see her future: endlessly hearing complaints from Pippa about things that couldn’t be fixed. Things that didn’t need to be fixed.

  So much for her sweeping into Honey and making everyone think she was amazing. She could just picture her probation meeting in three months. Pippa would be complaining that she approached her on her second day to fix a handful of issues and they were still not fixed. Helen would think about the times Chloe sat in meetings with nothing to say. Natasha wouldn’t defend her. And then she’d have to pack her belongings into a cardboard box and leave the office.

  She decided not to bring anything in to decorate her desk. Might as well make the box as light as possible.

  She pulled her MacBook closer and stared blankly at the screen. If she wanted to keep this job, she needed to pull something out of the bag. She just didn’t know what. Increasing the size of the contact form fields to something that could be seen from space might appease Pippa, temporarily, but it wasn’t going to make much of a difference in the long run.

  Her dad’s face appeared in her mind. She smiled to herself. He’d just tell her to save the company, make a load of money, be voted Woman of the Year. Maybe run for prime minister, if the money was any good. No guidance on how to do any of that, just dogged assurance that she could.

  She couldn’t disappoint him. Not that he’d ever truly be disappointed in her, but she would feel like she let him down. She’d been talking for years about how amazing Honey was, and now she feared Honey wouldn’t feel the same way about her.

  An email came in from LinkedIn. Apparently twenty-eight of her connections were celebrating work anniversaries. The second she was told she got
the job at Honey, she had updated her profile to show off her new place of employment. Now she wondered if that had been premature. LinkedIn was a great platform for telling the world how well you were doing by posting where you worked and what your job title was. It was also an easy way for people to see when you had failed.

  She mainly used LinkedIn to connect with people who hadn’t quite made the grade to be Facebook friends. They were people from school, university, and old work colleagues with whom she didn’t want to lose touch. But they were also people who didn’t need to see pictures of her drunk on her birthday or share their questionable political views.

  Realisation started to dawn on her. She had a lot of LinkedIn contacts. Over two thousand. Every time she met someone in a business environment, she sent them a connection request. People usually said yes. LinkedIn was like a club where collecting contacts was the primary goal. Likewise, she never said no to a new connection request.

  Surely one of her contacts might be able to help her. Business was all about connecting people. The right people, working together, could achieve magnificent things. Her marketing professor had said that repeatedly.

  She opened LinkedIn and started to scroll through her newsfeed. She looked over birthdays, work anniversaries, news stories, internet memes. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe LinkedIn was a load of people who were bored at work and posting junk. It was like a work-acceptable Facebook.

  She continued to scroll, wondering who half of the people even were.

  Then she saw something of interest: a lesbian culture podcast. She’d vaguely heard of it, but she’d never really been one for podcasts. The person who had posted it was Donna Hayward, an old friend from university. She’d always suspected that Donna was gay, but she’d been too shy to ask. It seemed that Donna was the host of the show, Girls About Town.

  The number of comments and likes were huge, well into the high tens of thousands.