Page 10 of Just Like That

‘At least let me try. I’m basically offering to work for free here.’

‘Jess, you know as well as I do, all it takes is for you to drop the ball one, twice max, and we’ve lost our clients to the competition. I’m going to lay this out for you, and I don’t want any arguments or false promises. You can have your three-day week – I’m not a monster, I know how important it is for you to be there for your brother – but I’m taking you off the Glasgow contract and any others that I believe will be high risk to this company—’

‘But you can’t.’ My eyes widen in desperation. ‘I’ve built the relationships, I know exactly what they want. Who’s going to take them on? Isla and Ravi aren’t ready for that kind of responsibility. Surely that’s the definition of high risk, right there.’

‘It’s all about calculated risk, Jess. Isla and Ravi are turning into top quality events managers, and they’re hungry for the experience and opportunities, meaning they’ll make damn sure they get things right. They won’t take their eyes off the prize.’

‘Like I have, you mean.’ I feel a knot form in my stomach as I realise I’m being relegated to ‘lack of commitment’ status.

‘That’s not what I mean. Your priorities have changed, that’s all. And you know that in this client-driven business, there’s no room to hit the brakes. It’s not personal, Jess.’

‘No, I get that. You’d say the same thing to anyone.’

‘I would.’

I swallow down a lump of raw emotion that’s forming in my throat: a mixture of frustration, deep disappointment and a feeling of resentment towards my boss. While I can understand some of what he’s saying, I still don’t think it’s that cut and dried. I’m really good at what I do and it feels like he’s demoting me without even giving me a chance to prove myself. Feeling a strong inner tug, which I recognise as the instinct to abandon my plan to look after Seth and save my career, I look up at Craig. But as the words are forming on my lips, I know I can’t let them escape. I’d be choosing myself over my brother, and that’s not a decision I could ever forgive myself for. I need to suck this up, keep delivering the way I always do and show Craig that he’s got this wrong.

‘OK.’ I lift my chin and my shoulders to bring myself back to being Jess the pro. ‘If I’m giving up those contracts, what do you want me working on?’

Craig looks at me for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether I’m really on board. ‘There are a couple of smaller gigs that are quite well advanced. They’re much less demanding, and the clients are “one offs”, so there’s no real risk there.’

‘Right… anything else?’

‘A new client request has come in this morning. I was going to assign it to Isla, but I think this one will work well for you. You can make it your own and see it through from start to finish.’

‘Anditis…?’

‘East Lothian Wildlife Park. They’re a public attraction-slash-conservation business based near Haddington and they’re struggling to make ends meet. The owner has been up front with me that if they don’t find a new revenue source soon, they may have to close.’

I think for a second but come up empty handed. ‘I’ve never heard of them.’

‘Perhaps that’s why they’re failing,’ says Craig.

‘Do they not need a PR person then, rather than an events manager? Or the animal park equivalent of Robert Irvine fromRestaurant: Impossible?’

‘Perhaps. But they can’t afford that. They think their best bet is a new revenue stream of “ticketed” events. They have six months to get their balance sheet looking more positive, otherwise they’re effed. Sounds like an interesting one and something to sink your teeth into. We can talk to them about your availability up front…’

As Craig fills me in on the rest, I feel myself struggling to focus on what he’s saying, which is not like me. It’s also not like me to just roll over and take something like this, which for a moment almost fools me into thinking that maybe he’s right to have removed me from my projects. But he’s not. He’s totally off the mark with this and he’s dressing this new project up to try to sell it to me as something positive. Who is he kidding? This and those other poxy jobs will decimate my CV. From spearheading royal events and creating culinary magic on a massive scale in Scotland’s capital city, to a rescue job for an unknown animal park in dire straits that’s probably destined to fail anyway. I’ve just fallen from dizzy heights and it seems almost a certainty that there’s no way back.

Chapter 5

The rest of my working week is made up of handing over my precious projects to my colleagues, and getting up to speed with the work I’m taking over from them. It’s like the most painful game of ‘swapsies’ ever. I also spend my lunch breaks and evenings preparing for Seth coming home, which includes interviewing candidates to find a carer he can hopefully connect with. By the time the weekend comes, I’m both physically and emotionally drained. My damaged career weighs heavily on me. So much so, that I feel like a part of me has been chopped off, and by Saturday morning I have to have a serious word with myself as I drive to the hospital to collect my brother.

I can’t afford for him to sense my wallowing negativity and feel like he’s responsible for it. That will definitely hamper his recovery. So I give myself a mental boot up the backside and adopt the most joyous expression I can muster as I enter his shared room on the neurology ward.

‘Hey, big bro.’ I greet him, swooping in for a kiss. ‘You ready to go?’

‘Nearly,’ says the nurse, who’s packing up the last of Seth’s things while he supervises her work. ‘We’re just waiting for the discharge letter and then you’re free. Ah, here it is.’ She takes an envelope from a colleague who briefly enters the room and passes it to her.

‘Wonderful.’ I smile at Seth. ‘I’m excited that we’re going to be roomies. I was so upset when you moved out and went to uni. Tried to convince Mum and Dad to let me leave school and go with you.’

‘I… re… remem-ber.’ Seth’s speech is slow and faltering, though there has been some improvement since the first weeks after his stroke. ‘Can… we… go… for… food?’

‘Did you not have lunch? I thought they said I was to come at this time so you could eat first.’

‘I… did. Had… an… ome-lette. Rubber.’

I glance guiltily at the nurse. ‘You mean it was rubbish?’

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