Читать книгу The Park Bench Test - Sarah Lefebve - Страница 18

When I get to work the following morning Erin says Malcolm wants to see me in his office.

“He has a 9.30am meeting so he says can you go in before you do anything else.”

No cup of tea then.

“Did he say what it was about?”

“No. He probably just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“Probably wants to make sure my mind is still on the job, more like.”

I’m being unfair really. As bosses go we could do a lot worse than Malcolm Hurley – Penand Inc’s sales director for as long as anyone can remember, including Fliss. Admittedly he makes our lives a bit difficult sometimes and demands account changes which virtually have us camped out in the office for days on end. And he wears the most shocking ties that require both a strong stomach and dark glasses. And he looks like a slightly better looking version of Shrek – although in fairness you can’t really hold that against him. But on the plus side he does give us generous pay rises and bonuses and always makes sure we have a Christmas bash to remember – even if it is for his not-quite-perfected plate spinning demonstration – with a free bar all night, which really shouldn’t be scoffed at.

But nonetheless, I’m dreading this. I’m already feeling wobbly. What if he’s mean to me and I start sobbing in his office? How embarrassing. Or, even worse, what if he’s really nice to me and I start blubbing because of that instead? It happens, doesn’t it? A few kind words from an unexpected source and, whoosh, enough tears to make Niagara Falls look like a leaky tap.

I knock lightly on his door. If he doesn’t hear me I can slope back to my desk and avoid him for the rest of the day.

“Come in.” Damn.

“Ah, Rebecca,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose as I enter his office.

“Thank you for coming to see me. I know how busy you girls are. Take a seat.”

I sit in the chair opposite him. I feel like I’m in a job interview.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” he asks.

Odd. He doesn’t normally offer hot beverages. Maybe this isn’t going to be as quick and painless as I was hoping.

“Erm, that would be great,” I say nervously, because I am a bit parched as it happens. I’m normally slurping my first cup of tea at my desk by now.

Malcolm buzzes through to his secretary and orders two coffees. I decide not to tell him I’m a tea drinker. He looks at me and smiles.

This is all looking very formal.

Maybe I’ve made some gargantuan cock-up with one of the accounts – given someone too much discount, perhaps, or given a £500,000 credit limit to a dodgy customer who has ordered his maximum and skipped the country with a lorry load of laptops?

Maybe he’s going to sack me. Do you think you’d get coffee if you were getting the sack? To soften the blow, maybe?

Hang on… maybe he is going to sack me. Excellent. If he sacked me then that would force me to do something else, wouldn’t it…?

“How are you feeling Rebecca?” Malcolm asks, interrupting my fantasy. Damn him. “I gather you’re having a few personal problems.”

“I’m fine,” I say, a little defensively. And then I feel bad because he is only showing concern. I think.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I repeat, a little softer this time.

“If you need to take some time off…”

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine,” I say quickly, hoping that will put an end to all this. Although, I would quite like to have my coffee before I go back to my desk. Malcolm drinks the posh stuff, none of your instant rubbish.

And then he leans back in his chair, takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose. He looks very serious. He looks like he’s about to offer me some words of wisdom on affairs of the heart or something. Oh please no….

Thankfully I am saved by the arrival of the refreshments, complete with a plate of chocolate Hobnobs. My favourite. Actually, that’s a fib. Jammy Dodgers are my favourite, but chocolate Hobnobs definitely come in a close second.

What? You hardly expect me to diet when I’ve just split up with my boyfriend? I need comfort foods. And somehow lettuce and celery sticks just don’t quite make the grade. Hobnobs, on the other hand, most definitely do. I take one and put it next to my coffee on the edge of Malcolm’s desk.

“So, Rebecca,” he says, putting his glasses back on. Back to business then.

I’m a bit nervous. I want to say “So, Malcolm.” I pick up my coffee and take a sip instead.

“As you know we had to let Hannah go last month.”

“Yes,” I confirm.

“For reasons I won’t go into,” he continues.

Who’s he trying to kid? It was the talk of the office.

“Of course,” I say, picking up my biscuit and taking a quick bite before it’s my turn to speak again.

“You have been acting senior account planner since then haven’t you?”

“I have, yes,” I confirm, wiping a crumb from my lip with my thumb.

“And have you been enjoying the role?”

“Oh yes, very much so,” I say.

Yes, I know it’s a big fat lie, but what do you expect me to say? “No, Mr Hurley, I can’t stand the bloody job. In fact, you can shove your rotten job up your bum”?

“It’s giving me some exciting challenges through which I can develop my skills and enhance my experience,” I add for authenticity, before taking another slurp of coffee.

“That’s excellent news Rebecca, excellent news, because the reason I’ve asked you in here today is to offer you the role on a more permanent basis.”

Bollocks.

Does coffee stain? And did I just say bollocks out loud?

“There will of course be a pay rise to go with the promotion,” Malcolm adds, clearly mistaking my horror for financial intrigue, and apparently overlooking the whole ‘bollocks’ faux pas.

“As well as a generous bonus structure,” he says. “I have prepared a contract so take it away it with you to read and perhaps I could ask you to sign it and have it back to me by…shall we say Monday?”

“Right, sure,” I say. “Thank you very much Mr Hurley,” I add, because, again, what else could I say?

“It’s no more than you deserve Rebecca. You are a hard worker and, if you want to, you can go far in this company.”

If I want to. Exactly.

“So?” Erin asks, as soon as I get back to the office.

She can’t bear not knowing anything, that girl. She’ll have chewed her finger nails right down to her knuckles in anticipation while I was gone, because she knew as well as I did that Malcolm didn’t ask me into his office to express his heartfelt concern for my welfare. I was either being bollocked or rewarded. I’m still not sure which category I’d put it in.

“It seems I’m being promoted,” I say, moving the pile of papers that have been dumped on my chair during my brief absence and sitting down. The sales guys are in the office today for their twice-monthly meeting, which means shed loads of work for us. I don’t know why they think it will get done any quicker if they put it on my chair, though. It’s not as if I ever pick it up and get straight on the case – I just move it onto my desk where it has to draw straws with every other bit of paper marked ‘urgent.’

“Wow, that’s great,” Erin says, rushing over to my desk to hug me.

I look over at Fliss, who isn’t saying anything. She doesn’t need to. She doesn’t want me to take this job; I know that. She wants me to leave. She wants me to do what I really want to do.

“Well done, lovey,” she says, eventually. A compromise. “Do you really want it though?” she asks. ‘You don’t really want it though, do you?’ is what she actually means.

“Not really, no,” I admit.

“Why not?” Erin asks, puzzled.

“Wait a minute, Erin love,” Fliss says, holding her hand up to stop her from saying anything else.

“So what did you say to Malcolm then?” she asks me, hopeful.

“I said thank you very much.”

I phone Katie while Fliss makes the tea.

“Books!. Katie Roberts speaking.”

“It’s me.”

“Hi B. How are you doing? How is everything at Felicity’s?”

“I’m okay. Fliss and Derek have been fantastic,” I say, looking over at Fliss and smiling.

“I need your advice. Again.”

“What about? Has Alex phoned you?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s work. I’ve been offered a promotion.”

“Hey, well done! More money then?”

“Yes, and some sort of bonus structure, although I don’t know all the details yet.”

“But? I’m sensing a ‘but’?”

“But I hate working here,” I say. “I hate my job. Do I really want a promotion that’s going to keep me here forever?”

“Nothing’s forever.”

“Well a couple more years at least and a couple more years here would feel like forever.”

“So leave.”

“And do what?”

“What you’ve always wanted to do, but never have.”

“It’s not that easy though is it?”

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy, B. It just depends how much you want to do it. Listen hun, I’ll call you back in a few minutes, I’ve got to take a call from an author.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll phone you later. I just wanted to tell you.”

“Okay. But if you really want my advice, then I don’t think you should take the job.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Leave, B. Come home. There’s nothing stopping you now. There’s nothing up there for you anymore.”

She’s right. There isn’t.