Читать книгу Mistletoe and Mayhem: A cosy, chaotic Christmas read! - Catherine Ferguson, Catherine Ferguson - Страница 11

I wake up on Monday morning, all jittery and excited at the thought of talking to my boss about the promotion.

It sounds weird, but I feel a little bit guilty having made such a big life decision without talking to Nathan about it. Not that he won’t be supportive because I know he will be. I’ve missed him while he’s been away. He did brilliantly in the Iron Man Challenge and I can’t wait to see him tonight.

And actually, now that there’s no pressure on me, I’ve realised I’m even missing my regular runs with him. So I’ve come to another decision this weekend. I’m going to sign up for the Great Brig Run. Nathan and I can train together. He’ll be really chuffed.

I arrive at work, feeling sick with nerves.

I’m just about to pick up the phone to ask Marla if I can have a word, when it rings. It’s actually Marla’s secretary asking if I can pop in and see her.

Happily, I close my spreadsheet and head upstairs. I’m not sure what she wants to talk to me about but it certainly seems fortuitous. Like it’s meant to be.

I sit on a chair outside her office, taking deep breaths, and Marla’s secretary, Angie, peers at me over her glasses when she thinks I’m not looking, then whips back to her computer screen when I turn in her direction.

The breath flutters in my throat. Angie probably knows Marla would like me to fill Sandra’s shoes. But obviously she can’t say anything.

My insides start whirling about like a clothes dryer on a windy day.

Oh my God.

It’s really happening.

I’ve been in a bad place for a long time, weighed down by such a heavy burden of guilt, thinking I didn’t deserve to be happy.

But just recently, I’ve started to feel that my life is changing and maybe – just maybe – it’s time to leave the past behind me.

Everything feels lighter and full of hope.

I’m in a loving, supportive relationship. And I’ve finally begun to believe I might actually deserve this promotion.

Plus, of course, the headache of Christmas is all sorted, thanks to lovely Nathan giving us the run of his flat.

A warm feeling spreads through me.

Everything’s going to be all right.

Marla calls me in and motions for me to sit down.

‘Great minds think alike,’ I say cheerfully.

She’s sifting through a file on her desk, her lips compressed as if she’s lost something.

She looks up in confusion. ‘Sorry?’

I smile. ‘Well, I was about to make an appointment to come and chat with you, actually. About Sandra’s job?’

‘Oh.’ She links her hands in front of her on the desk and stares down at them.

Her reaction is not what I was expecting. Maybe they’ve already found someone to fill Sandra’s post.

I’m surprised by how disappointed this makes me feel.

But something else is sure to come up …

Marla taps the table with her nail, still not looking at me, and my insides shift uneasily. Why has she called me in here?

At last, she takes a big breath and looks up.

‘Lola, I’ve got some bad news.’

I hold my breath, not liking the sad way she’s looking at me.

Picking up the file in front of her, she grimaces and tosses it to one side. ‘God, I hate this part of the job.’ She pushes her hands through her hair and looks straight at me. ‘The fact is, Lola, the company is in dire straits. They’re demanding cutbacks. And that means…redundancies.’

I freeze at the word.

‘You’re an excellent employee, Lola. And you’ll be getting a first class reference from me. But I’m afraid … well, you know what the company policy is on redundancies: last in, first out. I’m so sorry—’

Her words sink slowly into my fuzzy brain, like rocks in quicksand, and I feel the colour draining from my face.

She continues talking and I’m looking at her mouth but my mind has already detached itself, whirling off into space.

I’d really started to believe things were coming together. I’d been all fired up. All set to grab the opportunity with both hands.

But not only is there no exciting promotion for me.

I don’t even have a job…

Two hours later, I’m sitting on a bench staring out over Elmthwaite Lake.

The flat, grey clouds are reflected in the water, and I dig my hands deeper into my coat pockets. My bag, next to me on the bench, is stuffed to bursting with all my personal stuff from work.

It’s a freezing cold day in late October, but the brisk three-mile walk to the lake from Pottersdale has warmed me up.

I feel oddly detached from reality. Hardly able to believe what just happened.

In fact, I’m half-expecting Marla to suddenly pop up from behind a bush, point at me and yell, ‘Ha! Fooled you!’

I’d no idea the company was considering staff cuts.

Barb obviously didn’t know either, or she would never have encouraged me to try for promotion.

A biting wind rustles through the trees, along the valley.

So much for my brand new future.

Thinking of the hopes I’d nurtured, I almost feel like laughing, although it’s far from funny.

I stare across the lake at the hills in the distance.

I’ve come here, to this lake-side park – to this very bench, in fact – all my life. Mum used to drive us here when we were young because we loved the play area.

The playground is still there, nestled in a clearing amongst the trees to my left, a short walk alongside the lake. In my day, it was just your normal swings and teapot lid. But they’ve recently refurbished it and added one of those zip wires that all the kids love. At weekends in summer, the squeals and laughter of them whizzing along can be heard for miles.

But on a Monday morning, with winter approaching, there’s not a soul about.

I smile bitterly, remembering how excited I’d been that morning at the prospect of a whole new life opening up. With very little money saved, I’ll be lucky if my redundancy money lasts me beyond Easter.

The lake blurs and dances in my vision. My fingers are so cold, I can barely unwrap the last of the strawberry chews. The familiar tart/sweet flavour explodes in my mouth and I wait for a sense of calm to creep over me. But it doesn’t seem to be working.

Then I think of Nathan.

Nathan believes in me. He’s sure to see the positives in my situation.

Losing my job is not the end of the world, he’ll say. In fact, it could be a brilliant opportunity for a fresh start.

Suddenly, I’m filled with a longing to feel his arms tightly around me, telling me everything will be fine.

I glance at my watch. It’s nearly noon. By the time I walk to the supermarket in Scarsby, Nathan will be on his lunch break. I’ll buy us some sandwiches and we can sit in his car and talk about the future.

I’ll tell him I’ve decided to train with him for the Great Brig Run.

He’ll be so pleased.

Mind made up, I pocket the last of the chew wrappers, zip up my bulky shoulder bag as far as it will go and start walking along the lakeside road towards Scarsby. Icy needles of rain start to prick at my face but I pull up my hood and march on. Several times, I phone Nathan but his mobile is continually engaged.

Never mind. I’ll surprise him!

Flushed from my long walk, when I arrive at the supermarket, I head for the customer services desk and speak to Molly, who knows me well.

‘Hi, love,’ she says, picking up the internal phone. ‘Meeting Nathan for lunch? I’ll just buzz up …’

She has a brief conversation with someone in the office.

‘He’s got a meeting at one,’ she tells me with a frown. ‘But he says he’ll see you at home later.’

She sees my crestfallen expression. ‘But he probably won’t be long in his meeting. Do you want to hang around?’

I nod gratefully.

It’s wimpish, I know, but I really don’t want to go back to a cold, empty flat. Nathan’s positive take on everything will make me feel so much better. So I tell Molly I’ll go and sit on the seats by the tills and wait.

I’m on my way over when someone beats me to it.

Someone familiar.

It’s Crystal Watson.

She’s dressed up to the nines in a bodycon black dress and red heels, coat over her arm.

My heart plummets, the way it does every time I see her, my mind flashing instantly back to that horrible time. Why did I have to run into her, today of all days?

She’s seen me walking over – I can’t just swerve away – so I paste on a cheerful look and sit down beside her.

‘Well, hi!’ She flashes me a phoney smile. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I thought I’d surprise Nathan.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Her eyes open wide in fake apology. ‘But I’m here to meet Nathan. We arranged it yesterday. So sorry, Lola.’

I stare at her, bemused. She’s Nathan’s one o’clock?

What on earth can it be about?

Perhaps it’s something to do with the marathon they both took part in the other week. Nathan said a group from the gym were doing it together.

A large woman with dark hair and a peachy complexion comes over and smiles at us. ‘Crystal Watson?’

That must be Nathan’s work mate, Kelly. The one who told him to fuck off when he was laughing about her slimming club.

Crystal stands up. ‘That’s me.’ She smiles and straightens her cute dress.

Then she turns to me with a smug smile. ‘I’ll try not to keep him too long.’

Kelly gives me a warm smile and takes Crystal away.

There’s an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

There’ll be a perfectly reasonable explanation for the meeting, I’m certain of it.

I’m aware of Molly at customer services giving me the odd worried look. And after a few minutes, I decide I can’t sit there any longer. I’ve got to be doing something.

I wander over towards the exit and stop by the magazine stand to try Nathan’s mobile again. I know Crystal will be with him but surely when he sees my name come up, he’ll answer it.

But his phone goes instantly to messages.

I swallow and immediately redial. I hate myself for acting all stalker-like but I’ve got to speak to him.

The third time I phone, he finally picks up.

‘Hi!’ I practically shout with relief, and a tall, well-built man browsing at the newspaper stand looks across.

Half-turning, I lower my voice. ‘Um – hi, Nathan. Listen, I know you haven’t got time to talk right now but well, I’ve had some bad news.’

There’s a brief, crackly silence. I never get a good signal when I phone Nathan at work.

‘What is it?’ he asks, sounding a million miles away.

I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t phoned. I’m going to have to shout to be heard and the man at the newspaper stand will hear every word.

Nathan says something else but his words are swallowed up by the Bad Signal Monster.

‘We can talk later,’ I yell as quietly as I can.

‘Sorry?’ Crackle-crackle.

‘Nathan, the phone’s not working properly. You’re breaking up on me.’

There’s a great rushing sound, like wind, in my ear.

Then Nathan’s voice reaches me so loudly and clearly, I nearly drop the phone.

‘I know, Lola,’ he says, his voice weirdly amplified. ‘It hasn’t been working for some time, has it?’

He sounds like he’s talking through one of those old-fashioned megaphones.

Right above my head. Must be the acoustics in here.

‘I completely agree,’ he’s saying. ‘Breaking up is absolutely the right thing to do.’

My heart stalls.

What?

Breaking up?

But I was talking about the phone signal.

Not us!

‘No,’ I shout into the phone. ‘I didn’t mean I didn’t want to see you again, Nathan. You misunderstood me.’

‘Ah, that’s great, Lola,’ he says, in his God-like boom. ‘Because I really want to stay friends.’

‘Friends?’ I gasp in a panic.

No, no, no!

‘We may not be totally compatible,’ God/Nathan announces majestically. ‘But I hope we will always be friends.’

‘Nathan,’ I whisper/shout, desperate to prove we do have things in common. ‘Listen to me. I’ve decided to do the Great Brig Run.’

I catch the eye of Mr Newspaper Lurker. His mouth is curved in the hint of a smile and I turn away, irritated.

I can’t stand big, muscle-bound men who spend every waking hour honing themselves to perfection. You can tell by the way he fills out that green waterproof jacket and the way his thighs are straining against the denim of his jeans that he’ll be the type who likes to ‘max it up’ and ‘beast it out’ in the gym.

I try a glare but he smiles back.

I just wish he’d get back to his bloody weights and stop ear-wigging on my private conversation!

There’s a crackly pause and I’m sure I hear the sound of female laughter. Through my weirdly amplified phone, it sounds like a witch’s cackle.

‘Great Brig Run,’ I prompt Nathan. ‘I’m doing the Great Brig Run.’

‘Great Big Bum?’ booms God. ‘No, of course you haven’t got a Great Big Bum, Lola. I mean, yes, it’s fairly sizeable, but that’s absolutely not the reason I don’t want to see you any more.’

The Hulk is pointing skywards with a doubled-over Financial Times.

Urgently.

It’s as if he’s heard every word of the conversation.

A bolt of horror zips through my entire body.

Oh my God, he really has heard every word.

It’s that bloody faulty Tannoy system!

That’s why Nathan sounds like an omnipotent being from on high. He’s accidentally talking into the frigging Tannoy!

‘Nathan, fuck off and stop talking right now!’ I hiss into the phone, cheeks blazing beneath the gaze of fifty or so shoppers who’ve apparently also heard every humiliating word.

They’d innocently popped in for a loaf of bread – and found themselves treated to a supermarket special they would never forget!

Nathan talks on, clearly oblivious. ‘The sex was great,’ he’s saying. ‘Although I did hate having to say “no” to you all the time before a big event.’

‘Shut up, Nathan! You’re on the fucking Tannoy, you fucking idiot!’

The Hulk covers his mouth and coughs, like something’s gone down the wrong way.

I need to get out of here. And fast!

I blunder forward, aiming for the speediest exit from a supermarket since supermarkets were invented.

But The Hulk is blocking the way.

When I try to move round him, he steps helpfully the same way in his massive lumberjack boots.

And when I step sideways, so does he.

Oh my God.

Now I’m actually waltzing with the bloody man.

‘Whoah! Are you okay?’ His huge paw descends on my shoulder.

I shrug it off and fix him with a glare, my cheeks blazing hotter than Lanzarote in July.

‘I’ve just been made redundant. I’ll get a pay-off that might just about keep my budgie in seed for six months. If I had a budgie. And everyone in the shop knows about my sad, on-off sex life.’ I throw out an arm to indicate the gawping crowd and narrowly miss biffing him on the nose. ‘And to cap it all, my boyfriend just broke up with me. Over a bloody loudhailer!’

He holds up his hands in mock alarm and steps back.

I barge past him and collide with a family of four and a nun, before making it to freedom …