Page 24 of One Night in Glasgow
My newfound resolve was shattered by a stern voice cutting through the room. “Elisabeth. A word, please.”
Mrs. Campbell stood in the doorway, her face set in hard lines. My stomach dropped. I followed her to her office, the small clay pot feeling heavy in my hands.
As soon as the door closed behind us, Mrs. Campbell sighed heavily. “Elisabeth, I think you know why I’ve called you in here.”
I swallowed hard. “Mrs. Campbell, I am so, so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. If there’s anything I can do to make it right?—”
She held up a hand, silencing me. “I appreciate your apology, Elisabeth. But the fact remains that your... indiscretion hasput this entire organization at risk.”
A flush of humiliation spread across my cheeks. “I understand. But please, just give me a chance to prove myself. I’ll work twice as hard, I’ll?—”
“It’s not that simple,” Mrs. Campbell interrupted, her voice gentle but firm. “We’ve already had three major donors calling. Several members of the board are upset. And the children... well, we’re supposed to be setting an example for them.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. “I know I messed up. But this work, these kids... it means something to me. I want to continue.”
Mrs. Campbell’s expression softened slightly. “I believe you, Elisabeth. I’ve seen how you’ve connected with some of our young people. But we don’t always get what we want.”
My gut twisted as the penny dropped. Well, shit. This conversation was headed straight for the dump. “You’re asking me to leave, aren’t you?”
She nodded, looking genuinely regretful. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to step down from your volunteer position. It’s not a decision I make lightly, but we have to think of the organization as a whole.”
It felt like the ground had been pulled out from under me. This place, these kids, this tiny, lopsided pot... it had been my chance at redemption. And now, it was all slipping away.
“I understand,” I managed to choke out, fighting back tears. “I’ll… I’ll go…but thank you for the opportunity.”
Mrs. Campbell reached out, squeezing my arm gently. “For what it’s worth, Elisabeth, I believe you have potential. Don’t let this setback define you.”
I nodded numbly, unable to form words. As I turned to leave, Mrs. Campbell spoke again. “Oh, and Elisabeth?Perhaps it’s best if you use the back exit. To avoid any... uncomfortable situations.”
Great. The back exit. I rushed out of her office, barely keeping my composure, and went to gather my meager belongings from the volunteer lounge. I carefully placed Maisie’s pot in a small box. I’d let her down. I’d let them all down.
As I snuck out the back door, clutching my box of belongings, the reality of the situation hit me. I’d lost everything. My chance at redemption, my parents’ trust, my own self-respect... all gone.
I made it to my car before the dam broke. Sobs wracked my body as I slumped over the steering wheel. How had everything turned to shit so fast? I’d been trying, really trying, to be better.
I don’t know how long I sat there, crying until I had no tears left. The parking lot had emptied. I should go home, face the music with my parents and their Swiss rehab prison. But the thought of their disappointment, their ultimatums... I couldn’t bear it. My hands were shaking when I started the car, with no idea where I was going.
As I drove aimlessly, my mind a chaotic mess of regret and self-loathing, my phone buzzed again. I glanced at the screen. Colter. Again. This time, I didn’t silence it. What was the point of being responsible now? I answered, putting the phone on speaker.
“Beth! There you are you cheeky mare. I was beginning to think you’d gone all posh on me,” his familiar, trouble-making voice crackled through the speaker.
“Don’t you ‘cheeky mare’ me, you absolute git,” I snapped, my voice flat and hard. “You have a bloody nerve calling me. Where the hell were you the other night?”
There was a slight pause on the other end, followed by a low chuckle. “Right, that. Sorry, babe. Got tangled up in some last-minute... business. The kind that gets complicated fast and doesn't exactly allow for a quick text. I owe you, big time. Forgive me?”
His excuse was vague and dodgy, which was classic Colter. I sighed, the fight draining out of me. I was too tired and miserable to hold a grudge. “Whatever, Colter. Just... what do you want?”
“Whoa, you sound like hell. What’s up?”
I let out a short, harsh laugh. “Let’s see. I got ceremoniously sacked from my high-profile, zero-pay gig this morning, and then received a formal declaration of my non-existence from my parents. All before I’d even had a proper drink. So yeah, my day’s been a fucking delight.”
There was a pause, followed by a low whistle. “Shit. Well, that sounds like you’re in desperate need of a drink. Or several.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered.
“Look,” he said, his voice dropping a bit. “I’m about to do some… business tonight. A bit of lookout work, you know? But I’ll be free tomorrow. We can get properly wasted then. My payment for tonight’s gig is a nice little bag of what I’m told is top-shelf cocaine. We can celebrate your unemployment in style. Meet me at the old party house tomorrow afternoon? Say, around three?”
My rational brain screamed NO. Cocaine. A planned binge. This was the exact opposite of what I should do. But my rational brain was currently being drowned out by a tsunami of failure and despair.
