This is Not a Love Story

Chapter Eleven

Oh, I’ve really done it this time. I’m going to be seriously reprimanded for this. I am sitting on the bus, gazing out of the window miserably. My stomach is gurgling with anxiety. I got home yesterday as the last dregs of alcohol were still coursing around my bloodstream. The buzz had given way to quite severe anxiety and depression by then, so I ate all the chicken sandwiches, a box of cheese twists and half a tub of H?agen-Dazs and watched Elf until I fell asleep.

I mentally create another list; one which documents all the drama I’ve managed to get myself into in the past seven days.

Ruining the worst and only proposal of my life and rendering myself single: tick.

Turning up to work stinking of booze and covered in curry: tick.

Flashing my camel toe at the office: tick.

Huge drunken outburst at research workshop: tick.

Although number one sort of feels more like an achievement than a fuck-up.

I sink down into my seat and groan. I want to disappear. I wish the bus would just keep driving until it hit the coast and then I could swim to France and start a new life in Paris. Although we’re heading northwest, so we’d hit the wrong side of the country and I’d have to swim to America. Ireland is too close, too similar. I’m not sure I’d make it to the States; I haven’t swum in four years and I was never very good at it.

It takes all my strength to reach out my arm and press the ‘STOP’ button. Depressing that small red square is a metaphor for me accepting my fate and lighting the fuse for the destruction of my life. Work will be unbearable once Theo has finished with me; everyone will know what I’ve done and I will never hear the end of it. I’m so stupid.

I dismount the bus and do a funeral-procession-speed walk up to the building.

‘Morning, love.’ Leonard the security man is awake and looks at me with pity. This is the first thing he has ever said to me. Word has already got around, then.

‘All right, Leonard.’ I bow my head and hurry down the stairs to the basement.

It is completely silent down here. I check my phone: 08:57. Typical, Theo can’t even turn up on time to bollock me.

I head into the ‘conference room’ to prepare for my fate. A small, elfin woman is sitting at the table.

‘Oh, hi.’ I smile awkwardly. Who the hell is this?

‘Hello! I hope you don’t mind, I’m here for a meeting and no one seems to be around so I just thought I’d sit here and wait.’

‘Oh, no problem. Do you want a brew?’ I gesture towards the collection of chipped mugs in the corner. Theo’s pixelated face stares back at us from one of them, the words ‘live each day as if it’s your LAST’ screaming out from underneath.

‘No, thanks. I’ve already had my daily allowance of caffeine!’ She laughs and nods towards the takeaway coffee cup next to her. ‘Those Starbucks Americanos are way too strong.’

‘I know! They always give me palpitations. Stick with the lattes, the extra milk helps for some reason.’ I’m an expert in this field.

‘Good shout, I’ll remember that in future.’ She smiles at me warmly.

‘What meeting are you here for? I’ll call my boss and find out where he is.’ I take my phone out of my pocket, already dreading hearing Theo’s voice.

‘I’m meeting Theodore Parbold and one of his employees. I’m from HR.’ She lifts her lanyard up and wiggles it.

Oh god. I’ve been making small talk with my destroyer.

‘Right-o!’ I say, backing out of the room. ‘If you don’t mind waiting here...’

I shut the door heavily behind me and jog over to the toilet. Like hell I’m calling Theo. The longer she has to wait, the more incompetent he seems.

I hoist myself up onto the windowsill in the cubicle and light a cigarette. I haven’t prepared anything for this meeting, aside from the eighty-four comebacks and sassy comments I devised in the shower this morning. Now I’m here, though, they all seem a bit much. ‘Your incessant talking about iguanas has driven me to alcoholism’, for example, might be a tad excessive.

I’m trying not to panic about what I’ve done. I’ve never been so openly rude and hostile to people before. And I’d been so calm and collected earlier in the day! Everyone must think I’m such a mess. My head throbs with shame. Everybody knows you shouldn’t drink when you’re sad, angry or completely dissatisfied with your life.

Maybe I’ll be suspended. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? You get paid if you’re suspended, I think. It’d be like extra annual leave. I haven’t got any left and the tax year isn’t up for another month, so maybe this is actually a blessing in disguise? I could book a cheap flight and get paid to swan around Amsterdam eating brownies and taking photos of canals.

Actually, this is an excellent idea. Of course I regret what I’ve done, obviously I do, but isn’t life all about flipping a negative situation on its head and making lemonade? I have to make this happen. I mustn’t be too apologetic or they’ll let me off; I must be repentant but with an air of ‘a couple of weeks off would make me see the error of my ways’ about me. This is a positive career step, I’m sure of it. It’s even on the list — 5. Change your fucking job. That could be interpreted as ‘change something about your fucking job’. Suspension is change, isn’t it?

Plan devised, I jump down from the windowsill and bounce back to my office. I’m just scrolling through Skyscanner when Theo pokes his head round the door.

‘Good morning, Margaret. Meet in the conference room in five minutes?’ He looks like he is actually enjoying this. He is relishing in my pain.

‘Good morning, Theo. Yes, no problem.’ I smile as though I don’t give a fuck in the world.

I give so many fucks I think I’m going to be sick. I need this trip to Amsterdam. Or maybe Greece... I could drink little cocktails in the sun and let a brooding local have his way with me in a donkey barn, like something from Mamma Mia .

I pop a mint in my mouth before realising that having it roll around in there during this tense moment probably won’t do me any favours. I quickly crunch it and fish the little pieces out of my teeth with my tongue as I stride to the conference room.

‘Morning!’ I beam as I open the door. ‘Oh! You’re here to see me ?’ I feign shock as I glance over at the HR lady. ‘Gosh, silly me. I just didn’t put two and two together at all!’ I give what some people would describe as a ‘hearty chuckle’. Theo is one of those people. And look where we’ve found ourselves.

‘Sit down, Margaret.’ Theo is shuffling his papers on his desk as though there might be something relevant in there. It’s probably just a list of 1001 interesting things about iguanas. I sit.

‘So, Margaret—’ HR lady starts.

‘It’s Maggie, actually.’

‘Oh... are we not here to meet Margaret Gardiner?’ She murmurs to Theo.

Ooh, interesting. A case of mistaken identity? Could this work?

‘She likes to call herself Maggie but her name is Margaret. ’ Theo purses his lips.

OK, nope. Plan B it is.

‘Yeah, Maggie. Waggy Maggie they used to call me at school. I was never there.’ I lean back on my chair nonchalantly, trying not to engage with the acute shame I’m feeling. Suspend me, suspend me, suspend me.

‘Oh...’ HR lady raises her eyebrows and looks down at the table.

‘See,’ Theo hisses, ‘this is the type of behaviour I’m talking about. Totally inappropriate.’

OK, I might have taken the wrong tack. I’m making myself look completely unhinged. Although maybe that will work in my favour? You can’t discipline someone with obvious mental health issues — it’s unethical.

‘Right, let’s start this properly.’ HR lady straightens up and clears her throat. ‘My name is Evelyn Sachs and I’m here at the request of Mr Parbold to observe this meeting and ensure that everything is done properly. As a part of human resources, it is my job not only to look out for what is good for our company, but also for the people in it. So let’s hope this can be a productive and professional interaction.’

‘Thank you, Evelyn.’ Theo places his hand over hers and she looks at it like it’s on fire.

‘Yes, thank you , Evelyn.’ I shoot her a glance that says I know your pain, my hand has been your hand, he’s the mental one, not me. She looks away.

‘Margaret, I have asked you to come in today because I think your behaviour over the past week has been incredibly erratic.’ Theo’s voice is squeaky with power. His excitement is reverberating around the room. ‘I let a few things slide but your performance at the conference yesterday was inexcusable. I simply cannot let that go without disciplinary action.’

OK. OK, good. Disciplinary action = suspension. Suspension = holiday.

‘I’m sorry.’ I say, playing the victim card. ‘I’ve been very stressed recently and I’ve not been handling it too well.’

‘Mr Parbold tells me you got incredibly drunk and accosted several people at the event?’ Evelyn frowns.

‘Accosted? No! I said a few things... inappropriate things, I suppose, but... I had a couple of glasses of wine, and—’

‘A couple!’ Theo scoffs. ‘She had an entire bottle to herself!’

I hate you, Theo. I hate you and your excellent attention to detail.

‘I don’t think it was an entire bottle.’ I say calmly.

‘Six glasses! Six! In an hour!’

‘I think six is a stretch . . .’

‘Six glasses is actually more than a bottle! She was absolutely legless!’

‘Honestly, Evelyn, it was a couple. I’d had a big breakfast too so I handled it well.’ I smile.

‘She had more than a bloody big breakfast. You could feed a small community for a week on the number of waffles she had!’

‘Four waffles would only feed the smallest community imaginable, Theo. And probably only for a day...’

‘She said,’ he takes a deep breath, ‘she said there had to be more to life than this . Direct quote.’

‘I don’t remember those being my exact words, Theo. As I said, I’ve been very stressed...’

‘Stressed about what ?!’ Theo looks around incredulously. ‘You don’t have a mortgage or children, your responsibility here is second to none—’

‘Mr Parbold,’ Evelyn interrupts, ‘I have to remind you that it’s completely inappropriate to be commenting on or asking about your employee’s personal life. If Maggie wants to discuss it, that’s her choice, but—’

‘I would rather not discuss it, thank you.’ I don’t need to fake the catch in my throat as I look down at the table. I try to pretend that his comment about mortgages and children hasn’t just struck a nerve I didn’t know I still had.

‘No, come on! If you’re going to embarrass me in front of people, some very important people, may I add, at least have the balls to say what it’s about!’

‘Theo, I—’

‘Tell us! Share all! What is so unbearable for you that you can’t behave like a normal human being?’ Spittle flies from his mouth and lands on the table in front of me.

‘Honestly, Evelyn—’

‘Why did you say it, Maggie?! Come on, why did you say all those horrible things?’

‘Because it’s fucking true!’ I scream.

Silence descends upon the room.

Theo leans back in his chair, shaking his head.

‘I mean... it’s partially true. It’s how I felt in that moment... I felt like it was all a waste of time, which it was, really... I felt depressed, maybe...’ I’m scrabbling for reasons in the hope of some leniency. ‘I’ve been stressed and depressed and I felt it was true. I’m sick of it all.’

I realise with a nauseating rush that this is not a lie. I am sick of all this.

Evelyn coughs. ‘Well. I think there’s some action that needs to be taken here. Mr Parbold, while I don’t agree with the way you have handled this situation, I think the fact that there are issues with Maggie here is very clear. Before we defer to your judgement as manager, let’s first ask Maggie herself what she thinks a solution to this problem might be.’

They both peer at me. Evelyn with a look of interest and expectation, Theo with a look of ‘whatever you say is going to have no bearing on my decision whatsoever’. He’s really mad at me.

‘I think I need a break. Some time to get myself together, maybe. I just can’t carry on like this, I know that. I need to get my priorities straight and I don’t think I can do that without some distance to reflect.’

Wow, I’m impressed with myself. That was bloody good. I can even feel that my face looks sad, even though I wasn’t trying. Well done, face.

‘OK. If that’s all you want to say, we can now ask Mr Parbold what his decision is as resolution to this issue.’

Theo sits up straight. He has just been handed the gavel and is absolutely in his element. Decide my fate, almighty Theo. Please give me my holiday.

I bet he’s going to make me come in tomorrow. He knows how much I don’t want to be here and actually making me work would be the perfect punishment for the humiliation I caused him yesterday.

‘I don’t really see any other solution than the one I am about to propose, I’m afraid.’ He gives his stack of paperwork a sombre look. His amateur dramatics classes really were worth the fortune he paid for them. Perhaps if Christopher were here now he would see that it was worth sacrificing that kitchen extension for this very moment.

‘I suggest termination.’ Theo’s gaze meets mine.

YES.

‘OK.’ I smile sadly. ‘I’m sure after a few weeks I’ll be back and better than ever. How long do you suggest?’

There’s a small pause in the room and I glance between the two of them.

Wait. He did say suspension, didn’t he?

‘Termination, Maggie, would mean the end of your employment here. It would mean you wouldn’t be coming back.’ Evelyn gives me a sympathetic frown.

‘What?’ I stand up. ‘Termination?! I’m not well !’

‘We can all bloody see that,’ Theo mutters under his breath.

‘No! I have rent to pay! He can’t do this, can he? Couldn’t I sue? Isn’t this... what do you call it? Wrongful dismissal? Discrimination?’ I’m pleading with Evelyn.

‘Unfortunately, this decision is down to Mr Parbold. His accounts of your behaviour at work, which have been backed up by your colleagues, suggest that you have been erratic and unprofessional and that is more than enough to justify termination. You’ll work the four-week notice period and be paid for that, but then it will be time to go.’ She grimaces. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘The amount of inappropriate stories I could tell about you, Theo...’ I seethe across the table.

‘We’re here to discuss your behaviour at the moment, Miss Gardiner.’ Evelyn says coolly. ‘If you have any issues with Mr. Parbold’s conduct, I urge you to meet with me and discuss it. You’ll be here for another four weeks, so I’m sure we can make an appointment—’

‘I think not.’ I shove my chair under the table. ‘You won’t be seeing me ever again.’

‘If you don’t work through your notice period, you won’t—’

‘I’ve heard enough, thank you, Evelyn.’ I march over to the door and yank it open. ‘Expect to hear from my lawyer.’

And I’m gone.

* * *

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. This is really, really bad. Catastrophically, terribly fucking awful.

I don’t even have a lawyer.

Being out of that soul-sucking basement chamber is all I have dreamed of for so long. But in my dreams, I left with money. A compensation payout, or some lottery winnings. Never in my wildest fantasies did I imagine I would be walking out with my hands empty into a future of nothing.

‘CHRIST!’ I bang my hand on the seat in front of me. The bus driver slows a little and glances behind him.

‘Sorry. All fine here.’ I give him a thumbs up. Maybe I am unwell. Normal people don’t do the things I have done.

And what now? This month’s pay came through this morning; it’ll cover my next rent, but then...

I’ll be paid for another month though, won’t I? I remember when Sophie got made redundant at her old place, they paid her for another month after they told her. Although that was redundancy, not termination... and I remember she kept working there for a few weeks after the news. Her notice period, I think.

Oh god. The notice period.

The notice period I just screamingly refused to do.

Meaning no more money.

Not even until I find myself a new job.

The cut-off for payroll was a week ago, so I should get paid for this past week, AKA the worst week of my life. But that won’t even be enough to pay my council tax and electricity bill.

I’ll have to get on the job hunt. This could be a good thing, actually, a real strike through number five on my list. I’ve got a good load of science writing experience under my belt now; maybe I can try for something better. Maybe I’ll get a new office full of exciting, vibrant people who have things in common with me and we’ll go out for drinks on a Friday and bitch about our managers and everyone will neck each other and it’ll be all dramatic like something from Love Island. As long as they don’t have mortgages or children or any adult responsibilities whatsoever. I’m sure they won’t, though. They’ll be fun city-dwellers, living the high life and snorting coke off the Slug and Lettuce toilet cisterns. I won’t partake in that part, but I’ll definitely have a go at the necking.

Yes! I sit back happily in my seat, smiling like a mad woman, willing myself to stay sane. This is a good thing! I was miserable there, wasn’t I? This is exactly the kick up the arse I needed. In fact, maybe my subconscious forced me into this. I’ve been acting up massively; maybe I was secretly trying to mess up so badly that Theo would make the decision for me, push me in the direction I needed. Maybe I have internalised the list. Perhaps the list has become my fate. Maybe I don’t even need to do anything; destiny will just push me towards perfection.

This is excellent, it really is. If I tell myself it’s excellent, it definitely will be excellent. I’ll get applying as soon as I get home. Experience with a pharmaceutical company on my CV is bound to do me favours, and I’m sure I can plead with Theo to write me a good—

Wait.

Hold the bloody phone.

I sit up in my seat. Evelyn’s voice is swimming in my memory.

If you don’t work your notice period, you won’t—

Won’t what? My stomach sinks.

I know what.

If you don’t work your notice period, you don’t get a reference. Everyone knows if you just flounce off and leave, your employer can just refuse to write a reference for you. And no reference is a warning sign — do not hire this woman. She is nuts.

I slump backwards across the seat next to me and groan. I feel tears welling in my eyes. I am such a dick.

‘Are you okay, love?’ It’s the sweaty man who smells like compost, looming down over me. Does he live on this bus or what?

OK, I’m really not one to judge right now.

‘Yeah. Just having a breakdown, I’ll be fine.’ I close my eyes and he slides back into his seat, muttering to the woman next to him.

My phone pings in my coat pocket and I reach to grab it and hold it above my face.

Calendar Reminder: Yoga — 6p.m.

Pfft. I balance my phone on my stomach and sigh. Yoga is absolutely last on my agenda right now, particularly considering I’m at financial rock bottom. Money might not be able to buy you happiness, but standing in downward dog and breathing rhythmically through your mouth certainly can’t pay your rent.

I need a rational voice in my head. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have one of my own, so I decide to call Cecilia.

‘Hello?’ She yawns loudly.

‘Hey, C. Are you working from home today?’

‘Yep, going mental but at least I’m in my pyjamas.’

‘Fancy a visitor?’

In the split second before she answers, I realise how desperately I need to see her. I need her to make me a cup of tea and let me sit on her pretty sofa with the chunky blanket her nan knitted her and tell me none of this is my fault.

‘Sure, come and save me from myself. I’ve come dangerously close to opening a chocolate orange more times than I’m proud of.’ She pauses. ‘Why aren’t you at work?’

‘I’ll explain later. Be there in ten?’

‘OK.’ She doesn’t sound surprised. ‘But I’m not getting dressed for you.’