Always the Bridesmaid

  Instead of going back to my desk, I did what all women do when they’re losing their minds at work. I went to the disabled toilet, threw my stuff on the floor, sat on the lav and cried.

  Sure, Matilda had said they were just talking to people because they had to, but after ten minutes in a room with Sarah, that would all be out the window. She was completely qualified for the job, and she was wearing a suit instead of an outfit Miley Cyrus wouldn’t be seen dead in. And without Shona trying to sabotage her every fifteen minutes, she’d probably be a lot better at it than I was. She was definitely going to get it. I was definitely going to get fired. And then I’d be unemployed and then I’d be homeless and then I’d be living on the streets and then I’d get eaten by Alsatians and no one at Lauren’s wedding would even notice.

  Or even worse, Mum and Dad would make me go back to uni to get my PGCE and I’d have to be a teacher. All those kids, every single day?

  I couldn’t do it. I’d rather be eaten by Alsatians.

  A sharp rap on the toilet door, followed by the voice of the last person I wanted to speak to. ‘Maddie, are you in there? Can I see you in my office?’

  ‘Yes, Shona,’ I replied. ‘One minute, Shona.’

  Well, at least the day was about to hit its lowest point. Things couldn’t get any worse after this.

  ‘Come in, shut the door.’

  Shona was all smiles when I sloped in five minutes later. She always made a huge show of making everyone shut the door when they came to her office, even though the walls were glass and everyone could see and, thanks to her seagull-like squawk of a voice, hear everything that went on inside. ‘Sit down. It’s ages since we had a proper catch-up.’

  ‘I haven’t got my notes with me,’ I said, holding up my empty hands. ‘What do you want to catch up about?’

  ‘Just things in general.’ She motioned for me to sit down. ‘You’re still getting on fine with Sharaline? Things are working out?’

  ‘I haven’t worked with her since you pulled her out of the Dickenson meeting,’ I said. ‘Which I’m sure you already know.’

  ‘Well, I find she’s very good,’ Shona replied. ‘You would never believe she’s so young. She’s picking things up so quickly, she’ll be taking my job before you know it.’

  ‘Right.’

  I hoped it was true; she’d more or less already got mine. Maybe I could be Sharaline’s assistant.

  ‘Mr Colton came to ask how I thought you were getting on with your new responsibilities.’ She pushed a box of mints towards me and I shook my head. ‘No, really, have one,’ she insisted, wrinkling her nose. ‘No one wants coffee breath.’

  I took a mint and sighed. I hadn’t had any coffee.

  ‘I’m probably not supposed to talk you about this, am I?’ she asked, dropping her voice to a theatrical whisper. ‘It’s probably supposed to stay confidential.’

  ‘I don’t think it matters.’ I folded my arms in front of me. ‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m sure I’ll survive.’

  ‘No, I’m sure it’s fine,’ she said. She flapped away her concerns and closed the box of mints without taking one herself. ‘I told him I hadn’t had any complaints.’

  That was big of her.

  ‘But I did have to tell him that Sharaline’s been shouldering the bulk of your responsibilities so you have had an awful lot of time to dedicate to your one project,’ she added.

  ‘What haven’t I been doing?’ I asked, fully aware that I was spoiling for a fight. ‘I’m still doing all the invoicing, all the scheduling, I’m at every event two hours before you and at least one after you leave. What exactly is she doing that I’m not?’

  For once, I was too tired and too annoyed to mince my words. I was fucked off and I didn’t care who knew it.

  ‘I’ve been giving Sharaline some elevated responsibilities.’ Shona flinched slightly then carried on, her outstretched fingers curling up into claws. ‘They’re not things I would have given you to do. They’re more creative than the usual admin stuff.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s doing a fabulous job,’ I said, standing up to leave. When neither of us wanted to back down, our meetings were usually brief. She only really enjoyed making me feel like shit when I lay down like a doormat and let her. ‘Is that it? I’ve got quite a lot to do.’

  ‘Best to get things all wrapped up,’ she agreed. ‘Before the party, I mean.’

  ‘Yeah, OK.’ I shook my head, breathing out wearily. And it was only half-past ten. ‘Whatever, Shona.’

  ‘Oh, Maddie.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Was that your friend Sarah I saw going into HR just now?’

  I turned back to look at her.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Interviewing for the event planner job?’

  Shona was smiling.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That must be uncomfortable, competing with your best friend for the same job,’ she said. I turned back, but she was too busy checking something in a notebook on her desk to look at me. ‘Her CV was amazing. She’s got to be a contender.’

  ‘It was amazing,’ I agreed. ‘She’s very good.’

  ‘I’d definitely hire her, anyway.’ She scribbled in her notebook and then looked up at me, mini skirt, crazy cat T-shirt, chocolate-covered face and all. ‘That’s all. Didn’t you say you had a lot to do?’

  ‘How did you get her CV?’ I asked softly.

  ‘It was on your desk,’ she said, not even attempting to lie. ‘You’ve been so busy, I didn’t know whether or not you’d remember to pass it on yourself.’

  I didn’t say a word.

  ‘What?’ Shona looked so pleased with herself. ‘I was doing you a favour.’

  ‘It wasn’t on my desk,’ I said. ‘It was in a drawer, in my desk.’

  ‘And in your emails,’ Shona added. ‘She sent it through, what, seven times? She really wants that job, doesn’t she? And she’s definitely qualified.’

  I stood in front of her in the same spot I’d stood in for the last decade and looked down at her in her oversized leather executive chair. And I’d had enough.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ I asked. ‘Seriously? What is actually wrong with you?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Shona blinked, her giant tarantula lashes flapping up and down.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ I said, as much to myself as to her. ‘Are you fundamentally damaged in some way, or do you just get off on being a massive bitch?’

  Now it was Shona’s turn to be struck dumb.

  ‘No, really, just tell me.’ My voice was getting louder and I caught Sharaline looking over out of the corner of my eye. ‘What is it? What exactly did I do to make you behave like such an utter shit?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she replied. ‘But I would appreciate it if you would lower your voice.’

  ‘I’d love to, but I don’t seem to be able to right now,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what to do any more − I’m at my wits’ end with this. Whatever did I do to you to make you treat me like this?’

  ‘I don’t treat you any differently to anyone else,’ she said, leaning back in her chair as though I’d actually hit her. ‘If anyone has a problem, it’s you.’

  ‘No, I’m fairly certain it isn’t,’ I replied. ‘I work my arse off, I do everything you ask me to do, I never complain, I never mess up, and yet you still talk to me like I’m some reality TV reject. Nothing I do is good enough, nothing I say is clever enough. I don’t get it.’

  ‘I’m sorry you’re sad that I don’t want to be your best friend,’ Shona said, standing up and placing her hands on either side of her computer keyboard. ‘But I haven’t got time for BFFs in the office. You think I’m a bitch? I’m not a bitch. This is what it takes for people to take you seriously. I don’t care if you don’t like me.’

  I shook my head. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that women have to treat each other like shit to get ahead. You are basically the anti
-Beyoncé. You can’t treat people the way you do and expect no one to say anything.’

  ‘But no one ever has,’ she replied triumphantly. ‘And I’m still your boss.’

  ‘I’m saying it now.’ I pushed my chair into her desk, letting it clatter to a standstill. ‘This stops. The way you talk to me, the way you talk to Sharaline. It stops. We’re not idiots, we’re not your whipping boys, we’re not your slaves − we work for you. Why, I’m not quite sure.’

  ‘Because no one else would have you?’ she suggested. Her voice was steady as ever, but two high-spots of colour lit up her heavily powdered cheeks.

  ‘I know that’s what you want me to believe,’ I said, smiling and pointing at her as I made for the door. ‘But it’s not true. I’m good at my job, Shona, and that is because I learned what to do from you. And what not to do. But I don’t want to be you. Sorry if any of this came as a shock − I should have said it years ago.’

  Before she could say anything else, I walked out of the door and shut it carefully and quietly behind me. Every single face in the office was staring at me, jaws gaping, and there was barely a sound, save the odd phone ringing in the background.

  Without a word, I sat down at my desk, my heart pounding, waiting for retribution. I risked a glance up at Shona’s office just in time to meet her eye as she dropped her blinds with one swift, sharp movement.

  ‘Maddie …’ Sharaline coughed across the desk, her voice breaking as she spoke my name. I’m not sure why she would struggle with it − it was a perfectly normal name. Oh. That was probably why. ‘I just wanted to say something.’

  ‘Can you make it quick?’ I asked, a bright, brisk smile on my face as I grabbed a pile of paperwork and unopened mail and shoved it in my handbag.

  ‘I know you think I’m an arse-kisser.’ Her eyes were gleaming with admiration. ‘But I’m not. I’m sorry if I’ve made things difficult while I’ve been here.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ I replied. ‘The only person who has made “things” difficult is Glenn Close in there.’

  ‘I don’t know who that is,’ she said.

  Of course she didn’t.

  ‘I’m not trying to take your job,’ Sharaline said, finally finding her voice. ‘It’s just that, Shona … man. She scares me shitless.’

  Handbag on shoulder, heels switched for flats, I was ready to go. I had to get out of the office before Sarah came out of her interview. ‘That just proves you’re not mentally deranged and that you’re far too good for this place. You’ll be fine,’ I told her.

  ‘She said she thought I was going to be a scouse stripper before she met me,’ she whispered. ‘It was so mean. It’s not like my name is that weird, is it?’

  ‘It is quite weird,’ I said, shrugging. No point in lying to the poor girl. ‘But it doesn’t matter. You’re going to be fine.’

  It seemed like the right thing to say at the time, even if it was a flat-out lie. I shrugged at her look of disbelief and ran for the back stairs.

  Working from home was my favourite because working from home really meant putting on my pyjamas, turning on the telly and not giving a single fuck about anything for the rest of the day. I’d managed a whole three hours of truly appalling television before I even bothered to get my phone out of my handbag. Alongside the assorted receipts, half-full packets of chewing gum and tampon after tampon after tampon, there was a small square package in the middle of the mail I’d taken from my desk. Interest piqued, I tore open the brown paper to find a CD case.

  The Best of Etta James.

  A small square of white card fluttered to the floor, and, rather than touch it, I leaned over the edge of the sofa to read it from a safe distance.

  ‘Dear Maddie,’ I read aloud. ‘A small thank you for all the work you’ve done so far. I hope you enjoy Etta’s music as much as I do. Best wishes, Tom Wheeler.’

  Oh.

  Bloody hell.

  Still hanging half off the settee, CD in my sweaty paws, I heard a knock at the door.

  ‘Not today, thank you,’ I muttered, unable to tear my eyes away from Tom’s note. The little buzz I always felt when he sent me a text spread across my shoulders and shivered all the way down my back.

  ‘Just a nice gesture,’ I told myself, shaking off any other possibility and wondering where on earth my CD player might be. ‘What a gent.’

  Whoever was at the door had no time for my duvet day. The knocking turned into banging, the banging turned into hammering, and then, just as I was considering calling the police, it stopped. And then my phone beeped with a new text.

  Answer the bloody door, you slag.

  It was Sarah.

  Sitting up, I tossed the CD onto the coffee table, rubbed any stray mascara away from under my eyes and tried to straighten my hair. Sarah had seen me in every single state possible, but I felt weird seeing her now, looking such a mess.

  ‘Maddie, I know you’re there,’ she shouted through the letterbox. ‘Bloody let me in.’

  ‘How do you know?’ I shouted back.

  ‘Because I saw you screaming at your boss and storming out of the office and where else would you be? Your parents’ house? Open the bloody door. I can’t let myself in − I forgot my key.’

  ‘And it’s usually considered a bit rude to let yourself into someone’s house when you’ve been ignoring them for two weeks,’ I said, opening the door. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello yourself,’ she replied, massive Tesco bag in her hand. ‘Nice PJs.’

  ‘Nice suit.’ I watched from a safe distance as she emptied the bag on the kitchen surface. Biscuits, teabags, milk (I never had milk), tonic water (I always had gin). No visible weapon. I closed the door and followed her into the kitchen. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming in.’

  ‘I did!’ She filled the kettle and gave me a funny look. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Hmm. I checked my phone and reread my last message from her. Can’t talk, Mat just called. Prepping for tomoz. Thank you!!!

  Ohhhh.

  ‘You meant Matilda,’ I said, opening the biscuits. Priorities.

  ‘Who did you think I meant?’

  ‘A random man called Matt?’

  ‘And why did you think I was thanking you?’

  ‘I assumed it was a general thank you to the universe.’ I couldn’t really add that I had been engaged in some sexting with Will and hadn’t read her message properly.

  ‘You thought I would be so happy to get a text message from a man called Matt that I was shouting “thank you” out to the universe?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Oh, piss off and drink your tea.’

  Snatching up the biscuits, I hurled myself onto the settee. No biscuits for Sarah.

  ‘Sounded like you and Shona were having a very healthy conversation,’ she said, settling herself in her favourite chair. ‘Are you all right?’

  I paused mid-dunk. ‘You could hear it?’

  ‘Maddie, there are wallabies in Australia tweeting about it,’ Sarah replied. ‘Everyone could hear.’

  ‘Do you think Mr Colton heard?’

  She blew on her tea before speaking. ‘Maddie. Wallabies. Tweeting.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  It probably wouldn’t work for me when it came to my promotion.

  ‘The interview went well, though,’ Sarah said, smiling and looking generally happier than I’d seen her in months. ‘I think they liked me. I know I keep going on about it, but how cool would it be for us to work together?’

  ‘You’ve stopped sulking now then, have you?’ I asked, dodging her question. Because it would not be cool. Because it would be horrible. Because it would take about seven seconds for Shona to tell her I had never handed in her CV and had tried to keep the event planner job for myself.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I needed to spend some time on my own, work some stuff out.’

  ‘What did you work out?’ I asked.

  She grabbed one of the biscuits from
out of my lap. ‘That I’m going to die alone.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ I said. ‘We’ll get you some nice pets. What lives for ages? A nice tortoise or something.’

  ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘Eat that biscuit,’ I ordered. ‘You look horribly thin.’

  Her face brightened immediately. ‘Thanks!’

  ‘It wasn’t a compliment,’ I replied. ‘If your bridesmaid dress doesn’t fit, I’m going to kill you.’

  ‘We both know it’s a compliment,’ Sarah said, sucking in her cheekbones and prodding them happily. ‘And this feels very weird to say, but I haven’t actually spoken to Lauren since the hen night. I don’t know if she still wants me to be her bridesmaid.’

  ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ I asked, waving my phone at her as Lauren’s name lit up the screen. I’d say it was awfully convenient, but she had taken to calling me at least ten times a day to ask wedding questions, and I was overdue.

  ‘Hi,’ I started, putting her on speakerphone. ‘What’s—’

  ‘My mom just called and she needs to know what colour butterflies you’ve ordered.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘Because she wants them to match her hat?’ she replied as though it was obvious.

  If I was being entirely honest with myself, if anyone should be applying for the wedding-planner job right now, it was her. She had questions I’d never even dreamed of. No, I didn’t have the ingredients list for the liquid we were putting in the bubble machine. No, I didn’t know whether the floors of the venue were being cleaned with oil or wax. No, I didn’t know if the fireworks we were using at the end of the night had been ethically sourced. I didn’t know if fireworks could be unethically sourced. When I asked if it genuinely mattered, she gasped and hung up on me. I know being morally sound is important, but there was a time and place. I’d never been convinced that the doner kebabs at the end of my street were one hundred per cent lamb, but I choose not to ask questions. I wish she would adopt the same bloody attitude.

  ‘I don’t know off the top of my head.’ I rolled my eyes at Sarah who replied with a ‘what do you expect’ eyebrow raise. ‘Let me get my emails up and check.’