She looks out of the window and exhales.
‘Instead, he took me for a coffee and a little chat about what was in my best interests at the firm. How I didn’t have the right managerial skills needed to take the next step. How partners have to be cool-headed, poker-faced negotiators who could leave their emotions at home. He said I would hate it, and that I should carry on building business at my level, with the kind of work I’d be comfortable with. And that it would be in the best interests of the firm, too.
‘Then I bit the bullet and asked him if he thought it was strange how there were no female or black partners in my department. That I felt I was having to work twice as hard as everyone else to climb the ladder because of my gender and my race. That I was tired. Demotivated. I mean, it’s hard to feel inspired in a room full of partners who are all old white men. Every single one of them. Can you believe it?
‘Anyway, he went off at me. Told me I was ungrateful for all the opportunities he’d given me, and that it wasn’t senior management’s fault that no black women in the firm fitted the role. I was shaking. That day, I lodged a complaint to HR and said if the issue wasn’t addressed, I’d be taking it to the Solicitors Regulation Authority.’ She shakes her head.
‘Did HR do anything?’ Amy asks.
‘HR did fuck all. They said they’d launch an inquiry, but I heard nothing for weeks. Then one morning I came into work and found them hovering around my desk, telling me I needed to come with them to an urgent meeting with senior management. When I arrived, they told me they were restructuring, and I was being offered voluntary redundancy. I took it. Left that day. At the time, it felt like my only option. The whole place was toxic after the falling-out with the managing partner. So I accepted, and then I never saw or heard from them again. Until now.’
‘What did Aaron think about all this?’
‘He was furious with me for losing the job, and didn’t understand why I wanted more when being a senior associate was enough to pay the bills and live a good life. Especially because he thought I might come round to the idea of kids and that the maternity leave would help. Even though I’ve always said no kids. But he didn’t understand me then and he doesn’t understand me now. And because I haven’t been able to get a job since, we’ve been under a lot of financial pressure.
‘That’s what eventually destroyed our relationship. It wasn’t just me being close to my dad and Aaron feeling left out. That’s why I decided to stay on here. Money. It’s what it all usually boils down to, right?’ She smiles and shrugs her shoulders. ‘Although it wasn’t just the money Aaron loved. He loved all the expensive company events we were invited to. Don’t get me wrong, Aaron’s the most antisocial person you’ll ever meet. But he loved how everyone assumed he was the lawyer and I was the housewife. He got to play make-believe, and he lapped it up.’
‘Did you hear me say you could stop?’ Gemma roars over Flick, who’s lying panting on the floor.
A look of determination spreads across Jackie’s face.
‘But if I won a million quid,’ she continues, ‘I’d sue the shit out of them.’
‘I think you should take Gemma into the courtroom if you do,’ mutters Amy.
‘She’s loving that way too much, isn’t she?’
Dooong.
Amy and Jackie look at each other. The class stops mid-plank and stares.
Twenty-Five
Dooong. Dooong. Dooong. Dooong.
‘I’m coming, I’m coming! Jesus,’ Jackie shouts as she walks down the corridor. Amy follows behind her through the dining room, when something catches her eye on The Tracker.
She’s climbed to number two, after Flick. Overnight.
Her thoughts are disrupted by a heart-stopping screech at the door. She darts down the corridor to find Jackie holding a box with a beaming smile.
‘What’s that?’ Amy asks as the other housemates rush up behind her.
‘Civilisation!’ she cries, showing them the box lid, which reads Sponsored by Vibe Mobile.
The housemates scurry behind Jackie like a flock of baby birds as she takes the box into the dining room, holding it carefully like it’s made of glass.
‘There’s a note!’ cries Gemma. ‘What does it say?’
Dear housemates,
For two hours, you will have access to a brand-new iPhone, courtesy of your fans at Vibe Mobile. Feel free to explore, download, browse and send a message to the world beyond your walls. Binge away!
Frothing with excitement, they each grab a phone and hurry to find a comfortable corner. The house falls silent apart from the occasional tap, ping and mutter of ‘Oh my God …’
Amy hunkers down in the Tiki bar and logs into the pre-installed Instagram app.
What the fuck.
She has 400,342 new notifications.
Too terrified to look at what might be an onslaught of nasty comments, she bypasses the notifications and heads straight to Sarah’s profile. Her latest post is a cocktail at Sticks ’n’ Sushi, taken last night.
Missing my fav @amywrighty_88 Can’t believe it’s been 18 days – not that I’m counting.
Amy’s heart swells as she quickly types.
Save one for me! Miss you x
She resists a fleeting temptation to look at Jamie’s profile, and opens Jane’s instead. It’s a photo of the twins watching Peppa Pig. They’re covered in jam.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Then she spots an old photo of her and Jane from school on her feed.
So proud of my bestie @amywright_88! Can’t wait to celebrate with her when she WINS! #theshelf #amyontheshelf #bffs #tbt
Besties? Since when? The last time I saw you was months ago. And you made me feel like crap.
Amy moves on to Facebook.
Holy fucking shit.
Almost every post she scrolls past is about the show. There are photos of the housemates everywhere. Gifs. Memes. News articles. Cartoons. Songs. Even This Morning has run a segment on it. She feels sweaty.
When the actual fuck and how the actual fuck did this get so big?
OMG YOU WILL LEGIT DIE when you see what Amy used to look like!
The Shelf: Style Evolution on gossipyrabbit.com
Oh no. No no no no no no. Nooooo.
She stares at her sixteen-year-old self from 2004. She remembers the outfit vividly. A Von Dutch trucker hat, bell bottoms and blue lens sunglasses. And she was so much thinner.
‘Where do they get this stuff from?’ she asks in a trance, as she wanders into the living room. She’s glued to her screen but wants to see if anyone else is on the verge of a heart attack.
‘Old friends looking to make a quick buck?’ answers Jackie, glancing over her shoulder. ‘Oh my GOD, is that me?’ she cries, grabbing Amy’s phone.
In the same article, Jackie’s towering over her dad in a shiny white pinstripe suit that’s three sizes too small for her, with her ankles sticking out the bottom of the trousers.
‘That was my first day of work experience,’ she broods. ‘Look at me! No wonder the boys ran a mile!’ she laughs. ‘Ah, miss you, Dad!’ She looks up at the cameras.
The Shelf has occupied most of the Mail Online, and the housemates are freaking out about seeing their faces plastered everywhere. Amy’s panic is a mixture of excitement about her newfound celebrity and horror that most of the pictures are taken at unflattering floor angles by Roomba. The little bastard has managed to capture every nail bitten, tooth picked, yawn and tummy slump. It’s easy to forget the cameras are on you all the time, from every angle, in every room.