As everyone helped clear up, Stevie found Marsh taking her elbow and
steering her into the living room.
"Stevie," he said.
She forced her head up to meet his eyes. "Marsh."
"Are you okay?"
"Never better," she said, flatly. "My brother's going to be a Daddy.
Although..." She frowned theatrically. "I'd have expected to know about it a little
sooner."
For a moment Marsh didn't say anything. "I'm sorry. It's been really
difficult. Jane's been so ill and she had a lot of bleeding and we weren't sure the
pregnancy was going to hold."
"And you thought it was better not to tell me? And what if something
had
gone wrong? Didn't you think I might want to know what was upsetting
you? I know I'm not the world's most brilliant person, but I'm family. We used to
tell each other everything, Marsh. Everything."
Marsh gave her a small smile. "Well, not everything."
"Don't try to joke with me." Stevie shook her arm free from his grip.
"Three months! And I had to find out the same time as Louise and Jim. Three.
Months."
"Stevie, we didn't tell anyone. You're the first people we told."
"What about Jane's family? I bet you told her mother."
His silence told her everything she needed to know.
"Congratulations, Marsh. I'm sure you'll make a great dad." She leaned
forward and stabbed an unsteady finger at his chest. "Enjoy yourself, with your
new family." She turned and headed towards the hallway.
"Stevie, where are you going?"
"Home."
He took hold of her arm and looked as he was about to object, but
changed his mind. "Let me call you a taxi. You're too drunk to walk home
alone."
"I don't need a taxi." She picked up her jacket. "I can look after myself."
She tried to put her arm into a sleeve and missed.
Marsh shook his head. "You're over reacting." He held the jacket for her
so that she could shrug it on.
Stevie spun round and nearly fell over. "Am I? I don't think I am. You
think about it. If it had been the other way around, how would you feel?"
"I said I was sorry, Stevie. It's--"
Stevie stopped him with an upraised hand. "Save it for someone who
cares." She opened the door and lurched out.
"Stevie." He followed her out and took her arm. With his free hand he
used his phone to order a taxi. "Sit."
Stevie sank onto the concrete steps. Marsh sat beside her. She turned her
back to him.
"I'm not going to try and reason with you when you're in this sort of
mood," said Marsh, speaking to the back of her head. "I'll come see you tomorrow,
when you're sober."
Stevie said nothing. They sat there in silence until the taxi arrived.
* * * *
Answerphone: Hi, you've reached Stevie. Leave a
message and I'll call you right back.
Stevie, it's Marsh. You haven't
returned my call. Please call me back, we need to
talk.
##
Answerphone: Hi you've reached Stevie. Leave a
message and I'll call you right back.
Stevie. Marsh. Again. I came
round to the flat, but you were out. Call me back.
Please.
##
Answerphone: Hi you've reached Stevie. Leave a
message and I'll call you right back.
Stevie. It's Marsh. Don't be like
this. Just let me explain. We didn't tell people because we were so
frantic that we'd lose the child. It got to the point where we thought
that telling anyone would just jinx it. Jane had... Look, I can't discuss
this with your answerphone, just call me back or pop round, will you?
Please.
##
Answerphone: Hi you've reached Stevie. Leave a
message and I'll call you right back.
Stevie. It's Marshall. Stop being
childish. Pick up the phone.
* * * *
Stevie slit open another envelope with the letter opener. Her eyes
scanned for the name of the client and she stapled and tossed the papers into the
correct pile without engaging her brain. She'd been at work for four hours and had
lost the will to live about three hours and fifty-five minutes ago. Her head hurt from
the night before and her anger with Marsh was simmering away inside her. How
could he keep something so important from her? She blamed Jane. Okay, Marsh
loved his wife and wanted to spend time with her, but he would never keep secrets
from Stevie. Not without prompting. She gutted another envelope and wrenched
the letter out.
A movement at the edge of her vision made her jump. She turned to find
Gloria, the line supervisor, standing just behind her shoulder. Gloria reached
across, hooked the last letter with a red painted nail and checked that it was in the
correct pile. It was. There was a slight tightening of the over glossed lips.
Stevie pulled her earphones out. "Can I help you?" she said, as sweetly as
she could manage.
Gloria's eyes narrowed while she tried to figure out if Stevie was insulting
her. "Lunch break."
"That's great. Thank you." Stevie smiled an insincere smile and popped
the finger protectors off. "I appreciate the personal service."
The line manager tapped her clipboard. "One hour," she said.
"Of course."
In a bid to cheer herself up, Stevie splashed out cash she didn't have on
sushi and a magazine. When she returned to the lunchroom there was already a
group having their lunch, discussing Dragon's Den. Stevie sat at the other end of the
table, where the Formica had chipped off in a large triangle, and turned her music
up to drown out the conversation. She loved Dragon's Den. She and Marsh used to
watch it together.
She squeezed the lemon over her sushi and gasped as the lemon juice
stung a paper cut on her finger. That would teach her to take her thimble off in a fit
of misguided rebellion. She stuck the fingertip in her mouth to suck the lemon off.
There was a collective snigger from the men at the other end of the room. She
rolled her eyes. This job was beyond awful. If only she had something else to go to,
she'd walk out there in a minute.
Something chimed in the back of her mind. She tried to think back to the
conversation before Marsh's announcement. There had been something else.
Something Louise had said. She picked up her phone and sent off an email.
* * * *
From: Stevie
To: Louise Edwards
Lou. You mentioned a job
in Oxford. Is that still available? Can you send me details. I know the
money won't be good, but it might be good
experience.
* * * *
She nodded to herself. That's what she could do. If she organised the
event in Oxford for minimum pay, she could use it as experience. Maybe even meet
some other people who might become clients. Okay, it wasn't as good as getting a
job with an established company and moving up, but there was nothing wrong with
freelance. She could start small and build herself up. Why had she not thought of
this before? The very thought cheered her up. So much so, that she was almost
smiling when she opened her magazine.
* * * *
From: Louise Edwards
To: Stevie
Stevie,
details of job attached. It might be quite tricky to arrange the event at
such short notice and on such a tight budget. Are you sure you want to
have a go at it?
##
From: Stevie
To: Louise Edwards
Anything's got to be
better than this shit hole.
Besides, I'm up for a
challenge.
S
* * * *
One of the boys from across the room came up to Stevie.
"Hey Steph?"
"Stevie." She corrected him automatically, without bothering to lower her
magazine. He was going to ask her out. Again.
"You doing anything Friday night?"
"Washing my hair."
"Is that what you do every Friday night?"
"Yes."
"Except last Friday night, right?"
She lowered the magazine a fraction and looked at him. Where was this
going?
"Chris says you spent it banging each other's brains out." He grinned,
making his spots crowd together on his cheeks.
Stevie glanced over to see Chris smirking at her from across the room.
She raised her magazine again.
Before anyone could come up with a retort, Gloria materialised. "Your
hour's up." She said, stopping in front of Stevie.
Stevie glanced at her phone. She still had ten minutes to go. This was one
of Gloria's power games. It was no longer funny.
"I've got ten minutes."
Gloria leaned forward, her face close enough for Stevie to see the cracks
in her foundation. "Listen. I'm the manager around here. And I say that your time is
up."
"That's not--"
"I don't like your attitude, young lady. Now get back to work before I sack
you." Stevie stared at the woman. It was unbelievable that such bullying went on.
Gloria met her gaze.
"I could take you to court for bullying," said Stevie.
"What bullying?" Gloria turned to the men who were watching with
interest. "Do you see any bullying lads?" The men all shook their heads and
focussed on their meals. Gloria turned back to Stevie, triumphant.
Stevie blinked. Gloria smiled and turned away.
Anger that had been bubbling inside her all day coalesced into a point.
Stevie decided she'd had enough. She picked up a leaflet that had come with her
magazine. It was white on the reverse side.
"Gloria?" she said. "Can I borrow your pen a moment, please?"
Gloria half turned. "Certainly not. Get back to work."
Stevie sighed and fished a pen out of her pocket. She wrote I QUIT on the
back of the flyer, and signed and dated it. She plonked the paper down on top of
Gloria's precious clipboard and walked past her.
"You're supposed to give one day's written notice," Gloria shouted after
her.
Stevie didn't stop. What were they going to do? Sack her?
* * * *
From: Louise Edwards
To: Tom Blackwood
Hi Tom. I don't know if your
mum is interested, but a young friend of mine is just setting out in the
event planning business and she might be interested and maybe even
take a smaller fee as it will give her valuable exposure. She doesn't have
much solo experience, but she has done work for me in the past and I
can vouch for her being a bright, flexible and honest
person.
Lou
##
From: Tom Blackwood
To: Louise Edwards
Sounds like a good idea.
Is she any good?
Tom
##
From: Louise Edwards
To: Tom Blackwood
She did some work with me
one summer. She's very pleasant and honest.
##
From: Tom Blackwood
To: Louise Edwards
I notice you didn't
answer my question.
Still, Mum's desperate and it's worth a shot.
Send me her details and I'll pass them on to Mum.
* * * *
By the time Stevie reached her building, the feeling of elation had started
to wear off. Leaving the job was all well and good, but that meant she had to find
something else to do to pay the bills. She scowled as she jabbed the button on the
lift. Life as an independent adult was turning out to be more difficult that she'd
expected. First her brother got married, then the recession ate her trust fund, she
couldn't find a job that didn't suck and her brother was keeping secrets from her.
What else could go wrong?
She walked down her corridor, sorting through her keys for the right one.
She put the key in the lock. It didn't turn. She tried it again. Then, she carefully
turned the door knob. The door opened. Stevie stopped and stared at it for a
moment. She was sure she'd locked it when she left. Cautiously, her finger on her
phone ready to dial 999, she pushed the door open.
"Oh good, you're home."
"Marsh? What the hell are you doing in my flat?" She went in and
slammed the door shut behind her.
"You weren't here, so I let myself in." He produced the spare keys from
his pocket. "Just like I told you, in my message."
There had been several messages from him. She had deleted them
without reading them. She had to get those keys off him. If she wasn't allowed to
know about his wife's pregnancy, he shouldn't be allowed to have a spare key to
her flat.
"What do you want?" She threw her bag into the corner.
"I wanted to apologise." He took a step towards her.
Stevie held up a hand. "I'm not interested in your excuses." She'd had
enough of the whole day. She was feeling angry, tired and starting to panic slightly.
All she wanted right now was to sit in front of the telly and eat ice cream.
"Look. I know I hurt--"
"I said I'm not interested." She put her hand on the door to open it. "I'm
not having the best of days, so can you kindly get out of my flat?"
Marsh stared at her. "What's wrong?" he said. "Other than our little
argument, I mean."
How did he do that? How could he tell that anything had happened?
"Nothing."
Marsh's eyes narrowed. "Is it something to do with work?"
She hesitated. Only for a fraction of second, but it was long enough for her
brother to jump to conclusions.
"What's happened?" He studied her. When she didn't reply, he said, "Oh
no. You've been sacked. Haven't you?"
"No. I haven't been sacked." She looked away. "I quit. Actually."
"Stevie!"
"I'll get another job. I can look after myself."
Marsh didn't look convinced. "Clearly, you can't. This is the third job this
month."