Connie.’
I didn’t accompany my colleagues to the recruitment agency meeting, instead returning to the office to fetch my bag and coat. I needed to get out for a while, the atmosphere in the office sucking the life from my body and the whirling thoughts in my head making me dizzy.
‘Shall we grab some fresh air?’ It was Aidan, standing a few feet away, his eyes full of concern as he wrung his hands. ‘I don’t know about you, but I need a coffee after that.’
‘No thank you.’ I struggled into my coat and swung my bag over my shoulder.
‘Nell – I know this is hard. But I can look after you. Having to give you that news today made me realise how I feel about you. We’ve been tiptoeing round the subject for months now. Maybe this could be the making of us? I have that big house all to myself, after all. Let’s stop pretending: we’re meant to be together …’
Incredulously, I turned to look at him. ‘Seriously? You’re declaring your love for me now?’
He mistook my tone for surprise, his confident grin widening as he stepped towards me. ‘Yes, baby. Let me look after you. You have to admit this is what we both want …’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was Aidan Matthews so deluded that he thought news of my imminent unemployment was a suitable precursor to renewing our relationship?
‘Go away, Aidan. I don’t think we have anything more to discuss.’
He was staring after me like a dumb animal as I swept out of the office.
I didn’t go far: just for a walk around the periphery of the Council office complex, its landscaped grounds curving around the multi-million-pound building that had been the cause of much controversy when it had been built eight years ago. The flat grey sky cast a subdued light over everything and a lack of breeze made the space seem ominously quiet.
This had not been the way I expected today to pan out. In the space of four hours I had assumed I was getting back with Aidan, discovered I was losing my job, unintentionally offended my best friend and then been propositioned by the man who had just sacked me. Not bad going for a Thursday morning. And now, everything hung precariously like question marks suspended in my mind. How did I really feel about this? What was going to happen with my room in the rented house-share? Without a steady income, things didn’t look promising. How long could I exist on my redundancy pay?
As I walked around the car park, the idea that had occurred to me before my run-in with Vicky returned – and with it, a sense of injustice that grew the more I considered it. Why should I have to obediently sit and wait until I found another job? It might take months to find something else. I only had to watch the news to see how hopeless the jobs situation was right now …
I deserve more than this.
I thought about the figure that had been typed on my redundancy letter. As an indication of how much my soon-to-be former employer thought of my contribution to them, it was an insult. But, as an unexpected lump sum, it could be seen as a bit of a windfall. Perhaps it was a sign that my carefully planned life wasn’t the best way to live. Perhaps it was an opportunity to do something different …
What do you want, Nell Sullivan?
The question presented itself suddenly, stopping me in my tracks. I was hurt and angry and dreading the prospect of being unemployed. I didn’t want this to be my life for the next however many months it would take to find another job. I wanted something positive, something that would build me up, not drag me down.
I want to do something just for me …
And then, it hit me. I could go somewhere – far away from my former job and uncertain future. My trip to New York with Vicky two years ago had been the last time I’d had a proper holiday – the sort that involved plane tickets and duty free, anyway. This could be something just for me. I didn’t just want a break from everyday life: I needed an adventure. And while my measly redundancy settlement wouldn’t go far to pay my bills, it would make a nice little nest-egg to invest in a trip …
It was brilliant. I didn’t know where I wanted to go, only that I needed to do it – and soon.
The devastated visages of my colleagues brought me heavily back to earth when I returned to the office. Terry’s face was grey – although this might have had more to do with the half packet of cigarettes he had just coughed his way through. Dave and Sid, Planning Officers for twenty years each, were sitting like deflated balloon bookends on the edges of Terry’s desk. Nick was trying his best to look sympathetic for everyone while clearly relieved he was still employed. Vicky was slumped in her office chair, systematically peeling the layers of French polish from her nails. She didn’t look up when I arrived.
‘She’s back, then,’ Terry said. ‘We thought you’d legged it.’
‘I just needed to get out for a while.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Couldn’t face seeing the people she sold out,’ Vicky muttered, still not looking at me.
‘Now hang on a minute …’ I began, but Dave held up his hand.
‘It’s OK, Sully. She’s just upset. We all are.’ His smile bore the weight of the world. ‘We know Matthews put you in a position.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You probably shouldn’t be standing around chatting.’ Connie’s expression was one of pure, spiteful delight. ‘Management want you out in ten minutes.’
‘Who told you that?’ Vicky demanded.
‘Mr Matthews. While you were in the recruitment agency meeting.’ Her grin was about as sincere as a politician’s promise. ‘There are cardboard boxes in the meeting room. You might want to use them.’
I could feel the resigned despair of my colleagues as we collected the empty copier paper boxes and began to clear the contents of our desks. Packing my box alongside them, I felt a bit of a fraud: yes, it was horrible and scary, but since my revelation I couldn’t escape a tiny thrill of excitement dancing around within me. The sensible part of me, which had been in charge for most of my life, was uncharacteristically quiet and for the first time in many years I felt as if the constraints of my life had been removed by this curveball of sudden redundancy.
Out on the street we gathered, a box-toting band of newly unemployed people, not ready to walk away from each other yet secretly not wanting to prolong the agony. After a few mumbled words of solidarity and promises to meet soon for a drink, we dispersed. Vicky sniffed and walked over to me.
‘I’m sorry, Nell. I shouldn’t have said what I did.’
Relief flooded through me as I hugged her. ‘It’s OK. You were upset and angry.’
‘And also a bitch. But thanks for understanding.’ She sighed and looked at the sickly cactus that was poking out from her box of belongings. ‘I think I’m going to go straight home. Are you coming to the tube station?’
‘No, not yet.’ I wanted to pursue the thought in my mind while it still burned, before cold reality had a chance to dawn and spoil the party. ‘I just need to – you know …’ I tilted my
