This Could Change Everything(8)

Once the two of them had left, Essie sat down and wrote out a long explanatory email to send to everyone who’d received a copy of the round robin. It hadn’t been genuine; it had been a joke, of course it had. Someone had played a trick on her, writing and sending it on her behalf, and it went without saying that none of it was true.

Which would take care of most of the recipients, those who didn’t actually know her that well. They would read the round robin, have a good laugh about it, hopefully sympathise with her over the embarrassment that had been caused, then promptly forget it.

Unlike those closer to home. Who definitely wouldn’t.

But it had to be done. Trembling and feeling sicker than ever, Essie brought the round robin up on the screen and forced herself to reread the words she’d written.

Oh God . . .





Chapter 5


Hi, Essie here!

Well, the festive season is fast approaching and – surprise – all my wonderful plans to spend the last year improving myself crashed and burned. I still hate lettuce, didn’t manage to get past page eight of Anna Karenina and I never did join that evening class in conversational Spanish. As for those sixty sit-ups a day . . . what was I thinking of? Not a chance!

Other than that, the year got off to a very happy start when I met Paul. He’s the love of my life and we’re now living together, which is brilliant, even if he thinks he doesn’t snore. And he’s so tidy, too, which has been a bit of a shock to the system. Never mind, I’m sure as time goes by I’ll get used to our Sunday-morning vacuuming sessions with his top-of-the-range Gtech.

I have a new job, too! And what could be lovelier than working for your boyfriend’s mother? Well, it might be lovely if she weren’t a complete nightmare, but it was Paul’s idea, so I had to go along with it. They needed a new receptionist at the dental surgery and he insisted I’d be perfect for the job. Everyone else there is nice, though; it’s only his mum we have to watch out for. She’s so bossy! Which is fair enough, I suppose, seeing as she is my boss, but oh, does she have to be such a dragon?!

Which is why I’m dreading Christmas Day SO much. Ten whole hours at her house – just the thought of it makes me want to run away and hide. The last time we were there for lunch she asked me to lay the dining table, then told me off for using one of the best Sunday tablecloths instead of a weekday one. And when I offered to do the dishes afterwards, she got cross because I washed the cutlery before the pudding bowls. Oh, and I gave her a really pretty purse for her birthday, and she asked me where it was from. When I said I’d bought it from a stall at the Guildhall Market, she gave me one of those sneery, shuddery looks of hers and went, ‘Hmm, yes, thought so.’

So my best possible Christmas present this year would be not having to spend the day with Paul’s mother. But I do have to, so wish me luck. What a shame I can’t wave a magic wand and swap her for someone nice!

Anyway, that’s my news – it’s been a swings-and-roundabouts kind of year, as you can see. On the upside, I now have unlimited access to dental floss!

A very happy Christmas to you all.

Much love,

Essie xxx

‘I’m so sorry,’ Scarlett said miserably when Essie called her back. ‘I feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t had the idea of us sending each other a round robin, none of this would have happened.’

‘You could say it was my fault for writing it. Or Ursula’s fault for bringing that crow into the cottage . . . or Jay’s fault for inviting that idiot friend of his back here . . .’

‘He’s the main one,’ Scarlett agreed. ‘He was the one who sent it. That was pure evil.’

Essie felt sick all over again. ‘I know.’ Although to be fair, he hadn’t been evil. Just brainless.

‘Have you heard from, you know, anyone else yet?’

She meant Paul and his mother. ‘Not yet. Still have that to look forward to.’

‘Oh God.’ She could practically hear Scarlett wincing with sympathy down the phone. ‘Good luck.’

The sound of his front-door key turning in the lock two hours later caused Essie to jump a mile. Paul had left his very important weekend business conference in Dulwich and driven home down the M4.

One look at the expression on his face told her all she needed to know.

Not that she hadn’t been expecting it, seeing as he hadn’t replied to any of her voicemail messages or texts.

He surveyed her now. ‘I don’t know what you thought you were doing,’ he said stonily, ‘but I hope you’re happy with the result.’

‘Of course I’m not happy! It was an accident.’ Essie spread her hands. ‘A terrible mistake. It was meant to be a joke and your mum was never supposed to see it!’

‘She always said I deserved better. Turns out she was right.’

Marcia had actually said that? Ouch. Then again, hadn’t Essie always known, deep down, that her own rather modest upbringing hadn’t met Marcia’s high standards?

‘The fact that we saw it isn’t the point,’ said Paul. ‘It’s that you wrote it. My mother gave you that job at the clinic and this is how you repay her. And it’s how you repay me for suggesting you for the position in the first place.’

He was furious, and understandably so; there was no sign of his usual friendly manner and easy smile. Essie said, ‘I know. It was a horrible thing, but—’