The Last Dress from Paris(94)
“I’ve won, Alice. Neither of you stood a chance, I’m sure you can see that now.” He throws the napkin at the table and leaves without another look back.
Alice allows the breath she has been holding to escape out of her as she collapses back into her chair. She sees the tautness of the fabric across her belly, how the stitching is already struggling to contain her. She’s not sure how long she sits there. Long enough for her heart rate to stabilize and for someone, she doesn’t remember who, to come and clear the afternoon tea away and place fresh logs on the fire.
Hours may have passed, but at least Alice now knows what she must do. She will call her mother.
25
Lucille
MONDAY
LONDON
Dylan keeps me waiting twenty-five minutes past our arranged meeting time.
The temp, Susie, who has been covering for me, sees me to one of the windowless breakout rooms, and I’m left here to fester. Deliberately long enough for me to feel an uncomfortable prickle of nerves. After the freedom of Paris, being back in an office suddenly feels so formal and alien, like it never should have suited me in the first place. I know now it didn’t, and I was fooling myself that sitting at the same meter of gray desk every day, clicking accept to endless meetings I didn’t want to be in, was just what I had to do. What everyone has to do before they can make their own choices. I’d got sucked into the very same system my own mother has brilliantly demonstrated is not for me. One lesson that I am grateful for.
Pam from HR arrives, security lanyard proudly swinging across her bosom, armed with all the vital accoutrements of the personnel department: a selection of Biros that she lines up in a neat row on the table in front of her, an unused notepad that she breaks out of the cellophane (I’m honored), and a selection of anecdotes and business observations that I have heard first-and secondhand many times before. Still, she lends an air of seriousness and process that I know Dylan wants.
“I haven’t got long.” Finally he graces us with his presence. “There’s an advertiser lunch in the boardroom that I really can’t be late for. A major new travel client, who is shifting its entire media spend our way next year.” He never misses an opportunity to toot his own trumpet. He sits at the far end of the oval table from me, despite there being half a dozen empty chairs that are the more natural choice. I resist the urge to theatrically sniff my own armpits.
“So, how are you, Lucille? How are you feeling about your role here?” I know there are protocols, HR ways of doing things to avoid tribunals, et cetera, but poor Pam, this is so tedious. We all know where they want this meeting to end, and I’m tempted to just ask if we can skip to the part of the script that she’d arrive at anyway in about half an hour. “You’ve been with us for eighteen months now, so it’s a good chance for us to check in and see that everything is working.” Or to act before the crucial two-year milestone, when it becomes much harder to manage me out of the business. I have seen enough people come and go in my time here to know this is their way.
“Well, it’s a very broad role, Pam. It might be worth revisiting the job description, actually, it needs some updating.” Dylan’s head twitches up from the emails he is scanning on his phone.
“Would you say you are managing to achieve everything you need to?” She’s warming up. She lifts a pen and braces herself for detailed note taking.
“My copy is always on time. The top three trafficking stories last month were all mine. Not bad for a travel writer who hasn’t actually traveled anywhere since she was hired.” Pamela lets the pen relax in her hand. I’m not sure this is the positive feedback she’s wanting.
“Dylan? Anything to add to Lucille’s observations?” I could actually cringe for Pam. How does she keep up the charade when it’s blindingly obvious that Dylan’s already laid out why he’s not happy and wants me gone?
“Lucille does have the occasional good idea, but there have been some significant errors recently that have placed an unfair burden on the rest of the team. Not enough time devoted to my diary management, multiple unapproved days off with no good reason, and a general lack of attention to detail. I think there are core elements of the job that she is really struggling with.” He directs all his comments to Pam, refusing to personally acknowledge me at all. Maybe he can’t because somewhere deep down inside that obnoxious exterior, he can admit the tiniest sense of injustice. That it’s not entirely fair to pay someone the minuscule amount they pay me and then expect me to work 24/7 responding to every whim of the editor, professional and personal. But mostly personal.
And this is how we pass the next thirty minutes, me nobly pointing out my achievements; Dylan chipping away, trying to build a case for why I’m the wrong person in the wrong job; Pam diligently noting down everything he says and very little of what I offer. Before finally she gets to look like the good guy and make me the very fair offer I can’t refuse.
“Sometimes, through no one’s fault, things just don’t work out as we had all hoped. And I always think in that scenario, it is far better to deal with it head-on than let it groan on. So, with that in mind, I would like to make you an offer without prejudice, Lucille, so that you have a fair cushion to take some time to think about your next role. Obviously, you would not be expected to work out any notice period in this case.” Then she slides a folded piece of paper across the table to me. “This is what we had in mind.”