Page 40 of Kiss Me at Christmas
“You’re not leaving early; you’re leaving at the time you’re paid till—it’s called clocking off. You’re so accustomed to doing free overtime every day that you’ve become conditioned into thinking it’s normal.”
Harriet rubbed her temples. “Things are going to get missed.” She couldn’t bear the idea of somebody falling through the cracks because she was distracted…again.
“They won’t. The rest of the team have all promised to pull their weight, except for Cornell, of course.”
“Of course. Did Saffron get her personal statement finished after I left?”
“Finished and sent.”
“And what about Harvey’s university application?”
“Completed.”
“I called the food clinic about Aurora’s new meal plan three times today, and each time it rang off the hook. We really need a response on it,” said Harriet.
“Leave that with me, I’ll chase them tomorrow. That reminds me, Susan said Cornell dumped all his parent/guardian-teacher consultations onto you, is that true?”
“Yes, it is, he sprang that particular delight on me just as I was leaving this afternoon. It’s retaliation because he thinks I went behind his back with Evaline Winter to score brownie points with the dean.”
“Why didn’t you say no? You’ve got your own consultations to do.”
She had been asking herself the same question all evening.
“Well, I guess he’s so good at delegating his responsibilities that I know his students better than he does, andtheir guardians too. So it makes sense for me to do them, rather than have him sat in front of them simply reading out my notes. The least the kids on our list deserve is to know that we give a turd about them.”
“You should suggest that to the dean as the new school slogan: ‘Foss Independent: We give a turd.’ ” He laughed at his own joke.
“Thanks for helping me out, Ali, I really appreciate it. I’ll thank the rest of the team for stepping up too.”
“Wellll…” He stretched the word out. “It’s not that we’re helping you out as much as we are doing the jobs that we’re being paid for. You’re always so busy being the queen of fucking everything that you kind of take on our work too, and we let you do it because we are flawed humans. Essentially all that’s happening here is a righting of the scales.”
She frowned. “Oh.”Is that true?
“You’re kind of a control freak, Haz.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I mean, I totally get why. It’s that kind of job, the kids on the list are in our care and it’s easy to get obsessive. But equally—and forgive me if I’ve mentioned this before—I have two degrees, two master’s degrees, a PhD in counseling and psychology, and five years of Harriet Smith pastoral care boot camp under my belt. I know what I’m doing, as do we all, apart from Cornell, who must surely have been made head of department due to a typo.”
Harriet laughed. Ali consistently reminded her how qualified he was if she tried to micromanage him.
“You make me sound like a right bossy-boots,” she said.
“I only want you to see that you can rely on us. Let us do the job that you employed us for.”
“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”
“All the time. I only stay in this job for the adulation.”
The call ended and Harriet’s worries were somewhat relieved, aside from learning that everyone on her team thought she was a control freak. She looked down at the number from Ali’s aunt.Now’s as good a time as any.
She tapped the number into her phone and waited.
“If this is a sales call, I am not interested,” a sonorous voice boomed out, “and I will hang up in three, two, one—”
“Oh, wait! No, no, don’t hang up, I’m not a cold caller, Mr. Clarke. I was given your number by Prescilla’s nephew about a possible drama collaboration…” She spoke very fast, hoping he wouldn’t cut her off.
Silence filled the air for a handful of seconds, and she wondered if she’d lost him.
