Page 6 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

I’m about to lob my phone back on the counter when I realise I should probably do some damage limitation. Sharon said that my colleagues would simply be told it was a mutual decision, but I know how that sounds – I’ve even had to manage the fallout from these situations before in my job. I need to be on the front foot with this.

I quickly look up Anya in my contacts list, hit the call button and wait for her to answer.

‘Liv, hi!’ She sounds out of breath. ‘Oh, I’m so glad you called! Did you get my messages? There’s all sorts of rumours flying around. What happened?’

I bristle a little, knowing the biggest office gossips will be all over this.

‘Honestly, have people got nothing better to do?’ I try to sound as casual as possible. ‘It’s no biggie. I just decided it was time to go. Didn’t fancy any of the roles in the new structure, so I made an agreement with Sharon. Worked out well actually.’

‘Oh… right, well that’s… great.’ Anya sounds a bit strangled. ‘So, you’re happy about it?’

‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’ I add a deliberate air of dismissiveness. ‘I’m beingpaidto plan and execute my next career move. As much as I’ve enjoyed working at McArthur Cohen, that place is just too tolerant of deadbeats like Derek. I’ve always known I’d need to jump ship to get where I really want to be.’

‘OK, well in that case, that really is amazing!’ Anya’s bounce is back, leaving me in no doubt that she’s convinced. ‘I’m so pleased for you, Liv. And don’t worry, I’ll make those rumours go away.’

‘Whatever.’ My tone is nonchalant. ‘Not that I’m interestedat all, but what kind of nonsense has been spreading? Go on, give me a laugh.’

‘Justtotal nonsense, as you say,’ Anya says, and I picture her waving her hand around dramatically in the way that she does when she gets animated. ‘So, Jake from the Strategy team said that he heard you’d been sacked, and Sinead was told that you left the buildingin tearsafter a run-in with Sharon. And apparently, it’s all round the Sales department that you told her where to go. You didn’t, did you?’

I wish I had.

‘No,obviouslynot.’ I put on a bored voice. ‘It was a mutual agreement. There were no tears, no recriminations and nobody was sacked.’

‘Yeah, that’s what came out in the email from Sharon,’ says Anya. ‘She said it was a mutual thing.’

‘Listen, Anya, it was great to catch up, but I need to go. I’ve got a call with a head-hunter in five minutes.’

‘You’re a fast worker!’

‘No point delaying my journey to success. I’ll speak to you later, yeah?’

‘Hang on… you’re still going to come to Tony’s retirement party next week, right?’ Anya voice is filled with concern. ‘Tom, Stella, the whole crowd, they’re all going to be there. And they’ve been really concerned, hearing you were gone.’

‘Of course. No way I’m missing that. I know, they’ve been great. I’ve had loads of messages. Just been too busy to reply this afternoon. I’ll message them back later.’

‘Fab! Well, good luck, Liv. Speak soon!’

I end the call and take a slug from my now rather flat gin and tonic, job done. Anya has just the right contacts to make sure my story gets to the right people. I pour myself a top-up and return to my job listings.

By seven in the evening, I’ve spoken with contacts at three recruitment agencies, applied for five jobs online, put some feelers out on LinkedIn and made my way through a further three gin and tonics. The alcohol having given me a temporary lift, I’ve now convinced myself that this was exactly what should have happened all along. Just a shame I didn’t get in there first. Sharon, Derek and the gossipmongers can all continue with their sad little lives, while I get out and make the most of this opportunity. Thank you, Sharon. You really have done me a favour, you cold cow.

I hop off my bar stool, switch on the Bose Bluetooth speaker that sits on my bookcase and select shuffle in iTunes on my phone. The room is immediately filled with the clear, crisp beat, and uplifting melody of Happy by Pharrell Williams: just the right tonic to offer me a further boost. Before I know it, I’m dancing round my living area, sliding across the laminate flooring, using my iPhone as a microphone prop.

I’m almost shouting the words of the chorus, acting in a way that I’d never be seen dead doing in public; a way that I haven’t allowed myself to be in years, when suddenly there’s an almighty thundering at my front door.

‘Shit. The neighbours.’ Forgetting I have a pseudo remote in my hand, I run across to the speaker to kill the sound.

I dart into the hallway and peer through the spyhole. To my surprise, it’s Dylan, looking very impatient. Definitely not what I need right now. I stand silently, completely still, hoping he’ll go away. He doesn’t. Thunderous rapping ensues once more, vibrating through me like a violent military assault.

‘Liv? I know you’re there. I heard the music. You gonna open the bloody door or what?’

Realising I have no choice, I reluctantly unlock the door and open it.

‘Dylan. Hi. Sorry, didn’t hear you there.’

‘Yeah, you did.’ He slumps past me sulkily. ‘You were avoiding me.’

‘I wasn’t. Well, not at first anyway. How did you get into the building?’

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