‘If anyone’s to blame over Vine, it’s me,’ I say, before I’ve even sat down. ‘Please, Patrick. I’m the Account Director. I’m the one you should be firing, if you have to fire someone.’
To my consternation, my throat suddenly feels tight. Patrick stares at me for a long moment, then wordlessly reaches into his desk and produces a box of tissues. I snatch one and blow into it, willing myself not to cry. I hate women who cry at work. I can hear my mother’s acid voice, whenever my lip trembled as a child: That’s right, put it in the crier’s hands. Think that’ll bring your father back?
‘I’m truly sorry about AJ,’ Patrick says, as I ball up the tissue and stare fixedly at my lap. ‘This wasn’t a decision I made lightly. But you and I both know he’s been on borrowed time for a while. You’ve covered for him more than once. Things are tight financially at the moment; we lost a lot of business over Vine. AJ doesn’t put in the hours, and cuts corners. He’s dead weight we can’t afford to carry.’
Patrick is wrong: AJ does put in the hours, but not where it counts. I’m the one at fault for that: it’s my messes AJ wastes his time cleaning up. I know I’m not popular with the creatives; I don’t have the patience to sweet-talk them into doing jobs they’re paid to do. AJ’s wonderful at making the design team happy, but office politics has never been his thing. I can’t let him take the fall for me. He’ll never speak up for himself: he’s a Labrador puppy in a world of Rottweilers.
‘Patrick, I really need AJ on Univest,’ I plead. ‘I’m backed up with work as it is. I can’t afford to lose him. And I know Tina likes him, too. We could shuffle some responsibilities around, make him exclusive on the Univest account—’
‘This comes from Univest,’ Patrick says.
The penny suddenly drops. Univest equals Tina, and Tina equals Louise.
I stop fighting, knowing the battle is lost. Patrick’s never going to risk upsetting Tina, and she and Louise are tighter than two coats of paint. I feel like I’ve just had my legs cut from under me. AJ has been at Whitefish my entire career. I can’t imagine working there without him. I don’t think I’ve ever hated Louise more than I do at this minute.
I leave Patrick’s office and flee to the bathroom, locking myself into a stall so I can cry in peace. It’s not just losing AJ. It’s everything. Patrick doesn’t trust me anymore, or he’d have brought me in on AJ’s firing last week. My job is on the line, and right now I’m not even sure I want to work here any longer. And then there’s Andy. I still have no idea where he really was last Friday. When he got home and I asked him how ‘work’ had gone, he looked me in the eye and lied to my face about being stuck in the studio all day. But I’d tracked his mobile: I already knew he’d spent the day in Brighton. With her.
Andy would flip if he knew I’d installed stealth spyware on his phone, but I’m not a fool. Leopards don’t change their spots.
My mobile buzzes, startling me. I take a deep breath, clearing my voice of tears, and then laugh in disbelief when I see the name on the screen. The sheer chutzpah of the woman is breathtaking. If Louise was within reach, I’d shove the phone down her throat until she choked on it.
It vibrates seconds later with an incoming text. Where’s Andrew?
I ignore her. A second text hits my inbox. At ED with Bella. He’s not at work. Not answering his phone.
That brings me up short. The Emergency Department? I love that kid, though she doesn’t always make it easy. Is she OK? I type back. What happened?
I stare at the three cycling grey bubbles, waiting for an answer. But then the dots suddenly vanish, and Louise doesn’t reply after all. I resend my text, and when she still doesn’t respond, I call her. Her phone goes straight to voicemail. I try Andy, but he’s not picking up either.
Which ED? I text Louise, my anxiety mounting. Is Bella OK?
Nothing. If this is one of her sick games—
Louise has many faults, but surely even she wouldn’t invent an emergency involving her child just to fuck with me. She probably had to turn off her phone inside the hospital. Oh, God, if anything’s happened to Bella, it’ll break Andy’s heart. It’ll break my heart. I can’t just sit here and wait for Louise to ring back.
I’ll have to go down there. They must be at the Royal Sussex Hospital in Brighton; it’s the nearest one to Bella’s school.
I let myself out of the bathroom stall and quickly touch up my make-up. I don’t bother to tell anyone I’m leaving the office. Frankly, I don’t care if Patrick fires me. Without AJ, I’m not staying at Whitefish a day longer than I have to. I have enough experience now to find another job at one of the bigger agencies. Maybe even finagle something for AJ there and take him with me.
I repeatedly try to reach both Louise and Andy on the train from Victoria to Brighton. His secretary tells me he’s not at work again today, and this time I can’t even bring myself to care where he is. Clearly not with Louise, at least, or she wouldn’t have bothered to contact me. His phone’s switched off, so I can’t track him. I lean my head against the cool glass of the train window, and close my eyes. I’m so tired of all the lying. I don’t know what it is I’m fighting for anymore.
Louise still hasn’t replied to my texts an hour later. I get an Uber from the station to the hospital, and rush into the ED, frantic for information. The receptionist gives me a tired smile, clearly used to desperate relatives seeking news, and turns to her computer without comment when I give her Bella’s name, calmly tapping her keyboard as I grip the edge of the counter with whitened knuckles. ‘Is she OK?’ I demand.
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,’ the woman says sympathetically. ‘Are you family?’
‘Yes. Well, I’m married to her dad.’
Her expression cools. ‘So, not actual family, then?’
I suppress the urge to punch the woman on the nose. ‘She’s my daughter,’ I say tersely.
‘If you could take a seat, someone will be out to see you shortly.’
I eye the double doors to the right of the reception desk. I’m tempted to make a run for it and find Bella myself, but I tamp down my anxiety and frustration, and return to the waiting area. I go over to the vending machine, jabbing in the numbers for a strong black coffee. I realise I haven’t eaten all day, and add a mini-pack of Digestives.
As I reach into the vending bin, I suddenly catch sight of Bella sitting in a small bay just along the corridor to my left. Her head is heavily bandaged, but she’s upright and scrolling through her phone. As far as I can see, she’s alone.
I abandon my coffee and biscuits and rush over. ‘Bella!’ I exclaim. ‘Are you all right? What happened? I’ve been worried sick!’
She looks up, startled. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Your mother texted me. She was trying to reach your dad.’ I glance around. ‘Where is she?’
‘She went to get the car. The doctor said we can go home, but I’m not supposed to walk anywhere for a bit, and she parked miles away.’
I perch on the hard plastic chair beside her bed. ‘What happened?’