Page 76 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

In one of the glass-fronted meeting rooms, an IT guy was fiddling with some wires. Maurice was standing and watching him as if about to offer some sage advice, when in reality he barely knew how to send emails by himself. There were a few other junior team members there, sitting upright at the oval table, thrilled, no doubt, to be included. And Stevie, tapping away on a laptop.

See, there were more than enough of them to man the fort. Maurice asking her was just a courtesy, and a lovely one. But he’d understand, she told herself. She let herself in and his face broke into a smile on seeing her. ‘Rebecca!’ he said. ‘I wonder if you could brief the team on the latest figures, I know you’ve been looking over them this afternoon.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ve put them all in an email so everyone can…’

‘Still, nice to have it come from the horse’s mouth, so to speak?’

‘OK. Look, may I have a quick word first?’ she said, jerking her head so that he understood he had to come a little closer, retreat to a private corner so they wouldn’t be overheard.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked once he’d made it to her side. ‘Client problems?’

‘Oh no. Not at all. More… well,myproblem. It’s a friend of mine, my best friend, Amber. Did I mention she was in hospital? Anyway, she’s been discharged and she’s feeling a bit vulnerable. I thought – given the short notice and that you clearly don’t need me to join – it would be a good idea to go and see her.’

Her smile slowly faded as she looked at Maurice’s confused expression. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Are you the primary carer for this friend?’

‘Well, no.’

‘And I take it she’s being looked after.’

‘She’s at her mum’s, but…’

‘Well, then!’ he said, breaking into a smile. ‘She’s fine. I’m sure. Perhaps if it were family… but it seems she’s being well cared for. Shall we?’

‘No!’ Becky said, a little too loudly. The juniors’ heads swivelled in their direction then quickly returned to their respective screens. ‘No, Maurice. I’m sorry. I do have to go. Sheismy family.’

‘You said she was a friend?’ Maurice’s brows knit together in a fluffy frown.

‘She’s more than that! She’s my person. A sister.’

Maurice’s forehead creased further. ‘I’m sorry, Rebecca. I understand that you’ve been having some… emotional difficulties. And we’re all thrilled you’re back. But you must realise that this isn’t the kind of job that ends neatly at 5p.m. We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good. Besides, the client will be here in a moment so…’

‘No, Maurice. I’m not staying.’

‘I’m afraid I insist.’

‘No!’ she said, no longer caring if it was loud. ‘Maurice, you buy my time from me. My expertise. But you don’townme! I’m a free agent. And I’m going to see my friend. Because she needs me, and I’ve let her down too many times. She never, ever asks.’

‘I really must?—’

‘And it means something, you know. That she’s actually asking? If I don’t go now, it’ll just be another let-down. Another time I’ve not been there for her. I can’t do it to her.’

Maurice’s face was turning a deeper shade of red with every syllable.

‘You realise this could be construed as gross misconduct,’ he said, his mouth forming a sneer. The true snake coming out from under its fleshy, more personable, stone.

‘Well then, consider me grossly misconducting myself,’ she said. ‘Look, if the last weeks have taught me anything, it’s that outside this little microcosm of a firm, there is actually life. The world doesn’t revolve around Barringtons!’

Maurice just about managed a contemptuous snort.

‘This place isn’t everything,’ she said, feeling tears come. ‘And if working here means I have to be someone I don’t want to be… Someone who throws laptops, or has twitchy eyelids, or doesn’t have time to visit an elderly aunt, or ends up being a crap friend, then maybe it’s just not worth it.’

She got to the door, then turned and looked at the enormous fish tank installed to apparently ‘calm the atmosphere’. Inside it, the poor tropical fish swam confusedly around an artificial environment, emitting calming vibes to the workers who were also moving around a confined artificial environment. She was tempted for a moment to make a grand, Jerry Maguire-like gesture. But in the end, she decided against it. She’d never liked fish much anyway.

Instead, she turned, eyes burning, and strode towards the lift. Pressing the button, she waited an inordinately long time for the lift to come, continually glancing over her shoulder, wondering whether someone might come racing after her to persuade her to stay.

But nobody did.

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