you done something with your hair?’ she asked.
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Nope, why?’
She looked at me for a second, tilted her head and squinted. ‘Hmm, maybe you should then.’
Blimey, she’s started early. Usually, we’d at least ordered our drinks before she started finding fault with me.
‘Anyway, let’s talk about that promotion you’re up for,’ she continued. ‘This is the big one, Emily; land this one and you’ll be one of the directors by the time you’re thirty. Have they said anything to you about it?’
I shook my head, deciding to hold off mentioning the fact that Tara was also in the frame. Reaching my goals and meeting people’s expectations was what I ‘did’. Any hint that I might not be successful just wouldn’t wash with my mum. I always had my eyes on a prize of some kind: a job, a flat, a car. Achieving had been drilled into me for as long as I could remember; second place wasn’t an option.
‘Not yet. Paul said I’d hear back today, though.’
‘Excellent! You’ll get it, darling. I’ve got every faith in you. You’re one of life’s high-flyers. You really should stop wearing those awful jackets with the shoulder pads, though. They make you look so… sharp and shoulder pads died a death in the eighties. What about a nice flowery dress or a pair of jeans instead?’
I sighed and gritted my teeth. ‘Or I could just turn up to work wearing my Cookie Monster onesie and unicorn slippers?’
‘I’m just saying there’s no need to look so corporate, that’s all.’ She picked up my hand to inspect my nails. ‘Oh, Emily, when was the last time you got a manicure? These are terrible!’
My blood began to boil and I could feel my already thin patience beginning to fray even more. Although I knew my mum meant well, the constant stream of advice could be a little hard to stomach. I did my best to take it in the spirit it was intended and tried to attract the attention of a passing waiter. The only thing that would make this situation better was eating then leaving as quickly as possible. However, he passed me by without a second glance.
‘Excuse me!’ My mum put her hand up and another staff member came right over to take our orders. That was the thing with my mum: she had an air about her that commanded respect.
‘I’ll have the loaded potato skins to start and… What about you, Em? What do you fancy?’
I glanced down at the menu one last time. ‘Just a garden salad for me. I’m not that hungry.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mum scowl and she told the waitress to bring a bowl of chips and some mozzarella sticks too. The girl took off before I could amend my order and a few minutes later our food arrived at the table.
‘I’ll never eat all of this,’ I said, looking down at it, ‘but I’m going to demolish these mozzarella sticks. Anyway, what did you bring me here to tell me? You said it was important.’
Mum’s knife and fork paused as she was about to cut into one of her loaded potato skins. All the colour drained from her face and she pursed her lips. I saw a flicker of what looked like fear cross her face, but it was gone before I could ask any questions.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ She waved a dismissive hand and popped a forkful of potato, bacon and cheese into her mouth. ‘It can wait until you come round tonight. So, come on, tell me what’s new. Have you got yourself a man yet?’
I shook my head. ‘Nope. I don’t have time for all that romantic stuff; too busy trying to conquer the world, remember?’
I peeked up and saw my mum visibly wince. She leaned over and took my hand in hers. ‘Emily, you really should try and meet someone nice. Although maybe get some highlights in your hair first.’
Over the course of lunch, Mum pointed out no fewer than twenty things I had to sort out in my life. They included my flat, my car and my pores (they were apparently ‘huge’). Luckily for me, my dad came to join us just after the main course had been served. Mum was never quite so critical when he was around.
‘Emily, you’re like that Bruno Mars song,’ he’d said when Mum subtly suggested I should stop wearing the colour grey. ‘You’re amazing just the way you are.’
I couldn’t help but smile. Dad had my back in every situation, even if his lines were a bit cheesy. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to stay for dessert and Mum’s suggestions for improving my life came thick and fast. Another attempt to find out what she wanted to tell me failed; she dodged the question and said she was late for an appointment. It would have to wait until I went round for dinner later that night. Somehow, I got the feeling a big bombshell was on its way, and that I wouldn’t like it one bit.
*
By the time I got back to the office, I was more than ready to throw myself back into work. It was the one thing I could always count on in life: closing deals, enticing new customers to join our group and developing my portfolio of clients had become a way of life to me. When I was working, all my mum’s criticism and the stresses of the world seemed a million miles away.
The first thing I saw as I walked in was Tara Murray’s smug, cat-like grin. My stomach instantly turned and I wondered if Paul had gone back on his earlier promise to hold off on a decision about the promotion.
‘Hi, Emily!’ Her voice was dripping with syrup and I felt like throwing up in my mouth. ‘Have you heard the news? I closed on the Ashbury Hotel today.’
Her smile was so sweet and simpering that she made a Care Bear look bitter. I knew I had to hide how annoyed I was, so plastered a fake smile to my face and hoped it would stay.
‘I heard,’ I replied through clenched teeth. ‘Congratulations. I signed Mulberry House just before lunch.’
Although I couldn’t swear to it, I was sure I saw Tara’s smile shrink a little. She knew how much Paul wanted to land Mulberry House; the Ashbury Hotel was small fry in comparison. I could see it in her eyes as she realised the promotion might not be as ‘in the bag’ as she thought.
‘Oh!’ Her voice rose by an octave and she clapped her hands together. ‘Good for you, that’s brilliant! Have you spoken to Paul?’
‘He’s aware.’ I flashed her a quick smile and sprinted to my desk before she could ask any more questions.
My phone ringing made me jump. It was Paul. He’d made his decision.
*
Minutes later, Tara and I were standing in his office, our respective nerves on tenterhooks as we waited to hear who the proud recipient of the promotion would be. Paul was cradling the phone between his neck and shoulder as he took a last-minute phone call. Nervously, I tapped my foot on the floor and worried at my thumbnail. Every second was eking by slowly, mocking and tantalising me. My whole life was hinging on this one single moment.
Paul muttered a goodbye then put the phone down, turning his attention to us. ‘Sorry about that! Right, so, as you know, you two are the top candidates for the business development executive position. You’ve
