Mistletoe and Mayhem: A cosy, chaotic Christmas read!. Catherine Ferguson
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bit guilty having made such a big life decision without talking to Nathan about it. Not that he won’t be supportive because I know he will be. I’ve missed him while he’s been away. He did brilliantly in the Iron Man Challenge and I can’t wait to see him tonight.
And actually, now that there’s no pressure on me, I’ve realised I’m even missing my regular runs with him. So I’ve come to another decision this weekend. I’m going to sign up for the Great Brig Run. Nathan and I can train together. He’ll be really chuffed.
I arrive at work, feeling sick with nerves.
I’m just about to pick up the phone to ask Marla if I can have a word, when it rings. It’s actually Marla’s secretary asking if I can pop in and see her.
Happily, I close my spreadsheet and head upstairs. I’m not sure what she wants to talk to me about but it certainly seems fortuitous. Like it’s meant to be.
I sit on a chair outside her office, taking deep breaths, and Marla’s secretary, Angie, peers at me over her glasses when she thinks I’m not looking, then whips back to her computer screen when I turn in her direction.
The breath flutters in my throat. Angie probably knows Marla would like me to fill Sandra’s shoes. But obviously she can’t say anything.
My insides start whirling about like a clothes dryer on a windy day.
Oh my God.
It’s really happening.
I’ve been in a bad place for a long time, weighed down by such a heavy burden of guilt, thinking I didn’t deserve to be happy.
But just recently, I’ve started to feel that my life is changing and maybe – just maybe – it’s time to leave the past behind me.
Everything feels lighter and full of hope.
I’m in a loving, supportive relationship. And I’ve finally begun to believe I might actually deserve this promotion.
Plus, of course, the headache of Christmas is all sorted, thanks to lovely Nathan giving us the run of his flat.
A warm feeling spreads through me.
Everything’s going to be all right.
Marla calls me in and motions for me to sit down.
‘Great minds think alike,’ I say cheerfully.
She’s sifting through a file on her desk, her lips compressed as if she’s lost something.
She looks up in confusion. ‘Sorry?’
I smile. ‘Well, I was about to make an appointment to come and chat with you, actually. About Sandra’s job?’
‘Oh.’ She links her hands in front of her on the desk and stares down at them.
Her reaction is not what I was expecting. Maybe they’ve already found someone to fill Sandra’s post.
I’m surprised by how disappointed this makes me feel.
But something else is sure to come up …
Marla taps the table with her nail, still not looking at me, and my insides shift uneasily. Why has she called me in here?
At last, she takes a big breath and looks up.
‘Lola, I’ve got some bad news.’
I hold my breath, not liking the sad way she’s looking at me.
Picking up the file in front of her, she grimaces and tosses it to one side. ‘God, I hate this part of the job.’ She pushes her hands through her hair and looks straight at me. ‘The fact is, Lola, the company is in dire straits. They’re demanding cutbacks. And that means…redundancies.’
I freeze at the word.
‘You’re an excellent employee, Lola. And you’ll be getting a first class reference from me. But I’m afraid … well, you know what the company policy is on redundancies: last in, first out. I’m so sorry—’
Her words sink slowly into my fuzzy brain, like rocks in quicksand, and I feel the colour draining from my face.
She continues talking and I’m looking at her mouth but my mind has already detached itself, whirling off into space.
I’d really started to believe things were coming together. I’d been all fired up. All set to grab the opportunity with both hands.
But not only is there no exciting promotion for me.
I don’t even have a job…
Two hours later, I’m sitting on a bench staring out over Elmthwaite Lake.
The flat, grey clouds are reflected in the water, and I dig my hands deeper into my coat pockets. My bag, next to me on the bench, is stuffed to bursting with all my personal stuff from work.
It’s a freezing cold day in late October, but the brisk three-mile walk to the lake from Pottersdale has warmed me up.
I feel oddly detached from reality. Hardly able to believe what just happened.
In fact, I’m half-expecting Marla to suddenly pop up from behind a bush, point at me and yell, ‘Ha! Fooled you!’
I’d no idea the company was considering staff cuts.
Barb obviously didn’t know either, or she would never have encouraged me to try for promotion.
A biting wind rustles through the trees, along the valley.
So much for my brand new future.
Thinking of the hopes I’d nurtured, I almost feel like laughing, although it’s far from funny.
I stare across the lake at the hills in the distance.
I’ve come here, to this lake-side park – to this very bench, in fact – all my life. Mum used to drive us here when we were young because we loved the play area.
The playground is still there, nestled in a clearing amongst the trees to my left, a short walk alongside the lake. In my day, it was just your normal swings and teapot lid. But they’ve recently refurbished it and added one of those zip wires that all the kids love. At weekends in summer, the squeals and laughter of them whizzing along can be heard for miles.
But on a Monday morning, with winter approaching, there’s not a soul about.
I smile bitterly, remembering how excited I’d been that morning at the prospect of a whole new life opening up. With very little money saved, I’ll be lucky if my redundancy money lasts me beyond Easter.
The lake blurs and dances in my vision. My fingers are so cold, I can barely unwrap the last of the strawberry chews. The familiar tart/sweet flavour explodes in my mouth and I wait for a sense of calm to creep over me. But it doesn’t seem to be working.
Then I think of Nathan.
Nathan believes in me. He’s sure to see the positives in my situation.
Losing my job is not the end of the world, he’ll say. In fact, it could be a brilliant opportunity for a fresh start.
Suddenly, I’m filled with a longing to feel his arms tightly around me, telling me everything will be fine.
I glance at my watch. It’s nearly noon. By the time I walk to the supermarket in Scarsby, Nathan will be on his lunch break. I’ll buy us some sandwiches and we can sit in his car and talk about the future.
I’ll tell him I’ve decided to train with him for the Great Brig Run.
He’ll be so pleased.
Mind made up, I pocket the last of the chew wrappers, zip up my bulky shoulder bag as far as it will go and start walking along the lakeside road towards Scarsby. Icy needles of rain start to prick at my face but I pull up my hood and march on. Several times, I phone Nathan but his mobile is continually engaged.