The Christmas Party (2 page)

‘With all that going on, I really don’t know if I could have coped with the stresses and strains of modern-day banking anyway,’ I confess. My confidence in myself was at an all-time low. If anyone had snapped at me, there would have been tears. ‘There are hardly any front-line staff left now, just rows of cash machines and lots of grumpy customers who, quite rightly, complain that there aren’t any staff. I didn’t have the strength to face going back to that, so I gave in my notice, hoping I’d find another job quickly. Turns out I was way too optimistic. I hadn’t bargained on how hard the recession had made it to move around in the job market.’

‘It’s tough out there,’ Karen agrees. ‘My sister’s been out of work for ages, and she went to university and everything.’

That’s another reason why I feel so lucky to have got this position. How many kids have gone through university, only to find themselves doing menial jobs on minimum wage? Or, worse, not employed at all.

‘So where’s Mia’s dad now? I assume you’re not together anymore.’

Shaking my head, I pin the balloons so that they blossom out from the corners. ‘He walked out on me and Mia while all that was going on and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since. Last I heard, he was running a bar in Spain, ducking and diving, which would suit Steve down to the ground.’

Good riddance too. He was so controlling that, when he went, it was the first time in years that I felt I could breathe freely without asking anyone’s permission.

‘You could give me a hand instead of sitting there on your bum,’ I say to Karen.

‘Nah. Christmas is not my bag. Can’t stand it. You’re making a great job of it. Knock yourself out.’

The only problem – and it was quite a major one – was that he stopped paying his half of the mortgage on our tiny house the day he left.

My debts, of course, started racking up instantly. I wasn’t working and was struggling to get another job. Spending all day at home alone with Mia had me slowly tearing my hair out. I tried to manage on my own but it was just so hard. When I contacted the mortgage company to tell them of my situation, they foreclosed on the loan and I had no option but to sell the house.

It went for less than Steve and I had paid for it, so I was instantly in negative equity. Yet it still broke my heart to leave. It was just a tiny, terraced place with a garden the size of a handkerchief, but it was in a good area and it was home. My home. Mine and Mia’s. I kept it spick and span as I’ve inherited the house-proud gene from my mum.

‘We had to move back in with my mum and dad,’ I tell Karen. ‘That was the only downside.’

What could I do? There was no way I could downsize: there’s nowhere smaller to go than minuscule. To rent somewhere was even more expensive than the mortgage had been, so that was out of the question too. Eventually, and with much soul-searching, the only option was to go home to Mum and Dad. Thank goodness they were more than willing to take me in. Bless their hearts.

But Karen doesn’t need to know all this. Some things are better kept to myself.

‘If I had to live with my parents we’d all kill each other within a week,’ she chips in.

‘To be honest, it was such a relief. Mum and Dad swept in and looked after us both, as I knew they would.’

‘They sound great.’

‘They are.’ Throughout my life, they’ve just taken everything I throw at them with stoic supportiveness. ‘Mum looked after Mia and I got a job in Boots, mainly stacking shelves. It wasn’t great, but it brought some money in.’ Not enough to pay off the twenty grand I still owe on the house though. At least my sanity slowly returned. With my parents helping me, I got back on my feet and my confidence started to come back too. ‘That was fine for a while. I was doing a job that wasn’t very demanding and I could concentrate on giving Mia a good start. With my mum and dad’s financial support, I could spend more time with her, but I couldn’t rely on them for ever. It wasn’t fair.’

To be honest, they’ve never uttered a word of complaint. But I got to a point where I began to believe that I had so much more to offer the world than making sure its favourite brand of toothpaste was always to hand. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just wanted to find something with a bit of a challenge and with more opportunities to progress.

‘So now Mia’s at school all day and it’s time for you to strike out again,’ Karen says.

‘Yeah. Just because I’m a single mum, it doesn’t mean I’m on the scrapheap. I’ve got so much to offer, and doing it for my daughter has given me the drive I need. I’d love to have the cash to buy Mia little treats and make her proud of me.’

I want to turn my life around. I want to be someone who’s going places. I want to pay off all of my debts. I want to make sure I’ve got a good, steady income and our own home.

Standing back, I admire my handiwork. ‘Do you think I’ve put enough up?’

‘Depends what you’re aiming for. You passed the bounds of good taste with those balloons, but you’ve not yet achieved Santa’s-grotto level.’

‘Then we need more.’ I delve into Mum’s boxes. A trio of white glittery reindeer statues that we bought together in Next a few years ago. Perfect.

That’s why I feel so very fortunate to have landed this position at Fossil Oil after such a long gap. Despite my parents’ assurances that any company would be lucky to have me, I’d been bruised by too many rejections and was terrified that my skills were just too rusty. Yet, despite my worst fears and insecurities, this time round I got a job quite quickly.

‘I only had five other interviews before I landed this job.’

‘Result!’

‘It’s been a steep learning curve, but I feel I’m holding my own here.’

‘Everyone likes you,’ Karen says.

Which is nice to hear.

‘The money’s good, the job’s fantastic. I’ve no complaints on that score …’

‘The only problem is that Tyler is very free with his hands and his smutty comments,’ she concludes.

‘Yes.’ I hug the biggest reindeer to me. ‘Now I’ve been given this chance, I want to really make something of myself.’ The last few years have been hell. Absolute hell. If it wasn’t for the love of my mum and dad and my darling daughter, I don’t know how I’d have survived.

It’s not been easy though. Who wants to go home to their parents at the age of twenty-nine, a single mum with a daughter in tow? They’ve been great though. The best. They’ve never once been judgemental about my poor choice of partner or the debts that are haunting me. And they’re the most perfect grandparents anyone could have. They’ve done nothing but lavish love on Mia. She, in turn, absolutely adores them. I know I’m lucky – incredibly lucky – to have their love and support. But there’s no escaping the fact that I’m back in the room I last inhabited when I was eighteen.

That’s why there’s no way on God’s earth I’m going to let some jumped-up little toad like Tyler Benson spoil it for me.

Chapter Two

The Fossil Oil offices are fabulous, befitting a company with money pouring out of its ears. When I first started working here, I felt intimidated just walking through the doors. The central glass-walled atrium is enough to take your breath away. It towers right the way through the building and there’s a bit in the middle that’s filled with an profusion of exotic plants. Splodgy artwork abounds – though most of it looks as if it has been daubed by Mia. There’s a lovely coffee shop in reception just for employees, and glass elevators whisk you up to the offices. Mine’s on the third floor, with a fab view over the cityscape of Milton Keynes. It’s wonderful. There’s a white desk and lime-green filing cabinets and I have it all to myself.

Yet, in truth I’d rather be out in the department with everyone else, where they have open-plan cubicles. Then Tyler Benson would have less opportunity to touch me up.

‘Is all this festive bling getting you in the mood for the Christmas party tonight?’ Karen asks, eyeing the reindeers suspiciously.

‘Yes. Deffo.’

Despite her disdainful glance, I deploy the trio of reindeers in a line along the windowsill and then look out over the city. The vast expanse of sky is heavy with the threat of snow. I wonder, will we have a white Christmas this year? Mia would love it. Last time there was really heavy snow at Christmas she was too small to enjoy it. This year we could be out there building snowmen together. No doubt her indulgent grandad will buy her a little pink plastic sledge – I’ve seen him eyeing them up in Homebase for weeks. It’s sad really, as that should be a job for her own dad; he has no idea what he’s missing out on by not having his child in his life.

The offices are stark, though, very minimalist, and didn’t feel very Christmassy. I do like to get a bit festive. I’m all for Christmas, despite the extra expense, which everyone could do without. It’s even more lovely now that I do it all for Mia to make it special for her. My mum and dad used to go all out for me and my brother at Christmas and I’ve sort of carried on the tradition.

‘I’ve never been to a posh do like this before,’ I confide to Karen. The Christmas party is being held at Wadestone Manor. I had a quick Google of it a few days ago and the place looks amazing. A big stately home in the middle of nowhere. ‘I’m not sure what to expect.’

‘The party’s usually OK. A bit boring. All the top bosses rock up so everyone has to mind their manners. Hopefully they’ll all go home early and we can let our hair down. It livens it up if you can cop off with someone in another department,’ Karen continues, even though I’ve only got half an ear on her chatter. ‘There’s no way I’m going home on my own tonight.’

I roll my eyes at her.

‘This year should be a bit better. We’ve all been nice little employees and made them lots of money so they’re putting on a big show for us. There’s a free bar too. Yay! It’ll make a change getting something back for once.’ Karen claps her hands together excitedly. ‘Look, I’ve had my nails done.’ She holds them out for me to admire. ‘I’m having my hair done later and I’ve got a new dress. It’s very A-list. I wouldn’t look out of place on a red carpet.’

‘I haven’t got a new dress.’ My old faithful LBD will be pulled out of the cupboard and pressed into service once more. ‘I’m having my hair done though.’ A rare treat.

‘You should get an up-do,’ she advises, piling her own mass of blonde hair on to her head and striking a pose. ‘Sexy.’

I’m not sure that ‘sexy’ is the look I’m going for. ‘Moderately attractive yet definitely unavailable’ is my goal, and I hope my hairdresser can do something with me. It might be an ask too far. The last time I bought conditioner it was from Poundland, and I can’t even remember when it ran out. Consequently I have the hair of Kate Middleton but without the gloss, bounce or insanely expensive celebrity cut.

‘I could give you the name of the woman who does my nails,’ Karen offers. ‘She’s a wonder. She might be able to squeeze you in later.’

I shake my head. ‘Can’t afford it.’

There’s no way I’d ever tell Karen the truth about the parlous state of my bank account. That’s my problem and mine alone. The nearest I’m going to get to a manicure is, if I’ve got five minutes to spare later, I’ll see if I can squeeze a bit out of one of the half-dozen used bottles of nail polish that are tucked away at the back of my drawer, supposedly out of Mia’s reach. Though I did recently come home to find Gramps sporting neon-pink nails and I’m sure it wasn’t because he has a secret side to him and likes to be called Geraldine at weekends. It had Mia’s stamp all over it.

To me, the office still seems under-garlanded and so I pull two more out of the box. Perhaps I should put some decorations in Tyler’s office as a sign of peace, but then I think he might take it as a sign of something else and decide against it. If anyone could misconstrue festive decorations as foreplay then it would be Tyler Benson. These concertina garlands are taking a bit of untangling and I suspect that’s because they’ve been in the loft since I was in nappies. Maybe longer. But vintage is the new contemporary, right?

Karen doesn’t seem to mind that I’m slightly distracted by my task and finally abandons her chair to stand and hand me drawing pins. I’ve obviously guilted her into being festive.

‘I got off with Kelvin Smith from Business Management last year,’ she says. ‘We had a high old time. Shagged me ragged for weeks. It was bliss. And, then, well …’ She twiddles her hair in her fingers. ‘You know what it’s like.’

I tut my sympathy, even though I haven’t a clue what it’s like. I can’t remember the last time I was shagged ragged – or even dated anyone for more than a couple of nights. I’ve been resolutely celibate since Steve left.

I stretch up to pin my second tranche of garlands, on tiptoe on my desk. I want them criss-crossing the office, dipping nearly to head height in the middle. To make sure it exceeds all bounds of good taste, I add even more balloons. I must try to get a bit fitter. Clearly, running round after a four-year-old doesn’t count as cardiovascular exercise as I’d hoped. I’m out of breath after blowing up a dozen of these babies. They look nice though.

‘Retro tat’ is Karen’s considered verdict.

‘I don’t think you can be too tacky when it comes to Christmas decorations.’

Karen grimaces. ‘If you say so.’

I stand back on my desk, pleased as Punch with my handiwork. Now it’s starting to look a lot like Christmas. I wonder if Tyler would object to me playing a few Christmas songs in the office.

Then the man himself, my octopus boss Mr Tyler Benson, sales director of Fossil Oil, sweeps into the office and I feel myself automatically tense.

‘Good Christ!’ he exclaims. ‘What’s all this crap? Anyone would think it was Christmas.’

He’s a good-looking man, there’s no denying it. He’s in his early forties, I’d say. Always immaculately groomed. I bet his watch cost more than I earn in six months. He’s got closely cropped hair, which may be an attempt to disguise a burgeoning bald spot, and I suspect he really, really hates the sprinkling of grey that graces his temples. His eyes are steely grey like polished pewter and, try as I might, I can see no warmth in them. They are the eyes of a ruthless go-getter, a shark. Eyes that say ‘No one will stand in my way.’