Page 5 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

‘Hi, Mum.’

‘Just a moment, I just need to step back into my office. Right.’ There was the click of heels, then the creak of leather as her mum sank into her expensive seat. ‘So, how did it go? I hope you told that silly doctor what nonsense it all was. Sending you to a psychiatrist indeed.’

‘She was more of a workplace specialist.’

‘Well, whatever. Load of opportunists, if you ask me. Stress is what drives us! And that laptop wasn’t even a decent model. Probably did it good to chuck it against the wall.’

Becky laughed in spite of herself. ‘Mum! It was a top of the range – probably cost a couple of thousand. And it’s totally ruined.’

There was a snort. ‘Complete waste of time and money,’ her mum said, although Becky wasn’t sure whether she was talking about the PC or the appointment.

She took a breath. ‘Well, the doctor seems to think I’m approaching burnout,’ she said, scrunching up her face as if to ward off a blow. She held the handset a little distance from her ear.

‘Burnout? Whatever’s that?’ Her mum’s voice sounded outraged, as if the doctor had invented a new illness just to mess with her. ‘Absolute codswallop.’

‘It’s… well, being so stressed that your body sort of gives up,’ Becky explained. ‘And honestly I don’t think?—’

‘Of all the nonsense, Rebecca! I’ve never heard of anything so silly! All this modern woke terminology.’

‘Mum! It’s an established medical condition!’ Becky had googled it before the call to ensure she was completely informed. ‘And I mean, I’ve known people who’ve got really ill with it. But?—’

‘Claptrap.’

‘Richard Branson had it? Hillary Clinton?’

‘Yes, but darling, these are CEOs, presidential candidates! You work in advertising. It’s not… well, quite the same.’

‘It’s very stressful at work though, Mum. We’re working on a?—’

‘Oh, pish posh!’

Becky’s mum had a habit of using outdated but non-offensive expletives that usually secretly tickled her. She’d often repeat them to Amber later on. In her current state, she was less than amused, but still chalked ‘pish posh’ to her in-brain memo board to use on Amber at a future date.

‘Well, you’re not burnt out! The very idea! A hard-working young woman like you.’

‘That’s what I’ve been trying to say. I don’t agree.’ Becky drummed her fingers on her bedside table. She was not looking forward to telling Mum the next bit. ‘It’s just… she was adamant that I take some time off.’

She’d done it. She’d delivered the blow. Now for the fallout.

There was a brief pause, and Becky could almost hear her mother’s nostrils flaring down the line. ‘Horse feathers! Time off indeed! I take it you told her you’re the account manager for Tudors?’

‘Yes. Of course.’ Securing an account for the hotel chain had been her biggest achievement thus far and, Becky silently suspected, the first career win she’d had that Mum had actually been impressed by.

‘Well! Did you remind her that they’re the largest boutique hotel chain in the region? You are needed!’

‘Mum, she’s a doctor. I’m hardly going to argue with her. Not when I’m in there for… getting a bit angry in the office. I did try to explain but she was adamant.’

‘I suppose you told her the call you’d been on was about that ridiculous café.’

‘Yes, of course!’

Her mum harrumphed. ‘Maud has a lot to answer for, leaving you that… that sugar-coated Trojan horse.’

‘Mum, come on! Maud isn’t trying to derail my career from beyond the grave. It’s not her fault I got signed off.’

‘So the time off isn’t just a suggestion?’ Her mother’s voice went up an octave in alarm. ‘You let her sign you off? Oh, Rebecca. That’s going to be on your work record.’

‘I didn’tlether. It wasn’t up to me. And anyway, work can’t discriminate against?—’

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