Читать книгу The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection - Jane Linfoot, Zara Stoneley - Страница 50

Then

As I lurch into the flat after being suspended, dazed and dizzy, I feel like part of me has died. The fear sets in alongside the shameful humiliation. I slouch on the sofa and give in to it for endless hours while Jess is at work, staring dry-eyed at the wall, unable to compute what’s happened.

When I realise I’m shaking with cold, shock and hunger I make myself move. Showering and pulling on a pair of jeans and a vest top, I force some soup down and call our Human Resources department, getting a copy of every relevant policy I can think of emailed to me. Pouring over them, I highlight paragraphs and make notes. Drinking strong, black coffee and pinning my hair back, I drag my disordered thoughts together and am interrupted only by one of the security guards arriving with my stuff.

‘Thanks,’ I say brightly, looking him straight in the eye. I won’t be pitied, or act like someone who’s already lost. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘No problem,’ the man – one of Baz’s new recruits, Ian – gives me a quizzical smile and I wonder if I look a little manic. ‘Baz said it was important to get this to you,’ he prompts nosily.

‘It is. Thank you. Bye.’ I slide my diary, files and notepads from his grasp and wait until he’s trotted down the stairs before bumping the door closed with my hip. As I do, a piece of paper flutters to the floor and I sweep it up. The tears threatening all day finally spill over as I read the note.

Whatever it is, we’re all rooting for you.

I let go for a few minutes then wipe the tears away and march into the kitchen, where I’ve set up camp at the table. If they’re rooting for me I’d better get on with it.

Some time later, Jess slams in. ‘What the hell is going on?’ She throws her bag into the corner, stripping her coat off.

‘Huh?’ I look up from my diary, where I’ve been backtracking to all the times Tony has said or done anything inappropriate over the last few months, to write up a chronological sequence of events for the disciplinary investigation. It feels good to be doing something meaningful, taking control.

‘I called the casino on my way home to see how you got on with sorting out Tony and they said you left this morning.’ She sets her hands on her hips, temper written across her face. ‘Then Kitty took me aside. Is it true?’

‘What?’ Sitting back in my chair.

‘You’ve been suspended?’

‘She shouldn’t have told you that.’

‘She’s your friend as well as your colleague, and as if you wouldn’t have told me.’

‘Of course I would, but I wanted to tell you myself! Sorry.’ Sucking in a breath: ‘I didn’t see any point in ruining your day too, so I was waiting for you to get home. That b—’

‘Bastard Tony,’ she finishes. ‘Yes. What did he do?’

‘He’s accused me of sexual harassment—’

‘He wishes! The little—’

‘And bullying.’ I rise to get fresh coffee started. ‘They’re taking it seriously. So I’m suspended until they’ve investigated and decided on an outcome.’

‘Which will be that he’s talking a load of crap.’ She drops her hands from her hips and shakes her head. ‘I don’t know how you can be so calm.’

‘I wasn’t.’ Handing her a chocolate biscuit from our heart-shaped tin: ‘When I got home I was a total mess. Had a bit of a meltdown, then got it together.’ Spooning sugar into her favourite mug, I pour hot water in and stir. ‘I’m calmer now because I’m doing something about it. And I know it will be okay. Because they know me. And because I didn’t do anything and he has no proof that I did.’

Thrusting the mug at her, as I say it I truly believe it.

‘What?’ I cry.

A young mum with a baby in a pushchair swerves sharply to avoid me, the crazed-looking redhead. ‘What?’ I repeat, moving off the path to sit down on the crisp green grass. ‘And people believe him?’

I’ve escaped to the leafy surroundings of Hyde Park. After two days in the flat getting my paperwork in order and waiting for an invite to a disciplinary interview, the walls have started closing in on me. I’m worried about running into someone from work, in case they ask me questions, or worse, avoid me out of awkwardness, but I can’t take it any more. Besides, if I’m as innocent as I keep telling myself, hiding away will only make people think I have a reason to be ashamed. I can’t let anyone doubt me.

‘People who know you don’t,’ Kitty answers gruffly in my ear.

‘He has no right to say anything to anyone. This is all confidential. And what about people who don’t know me?’