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Thirty minutes later, we filed into the meeting room like sheep into an abattoir, my colleagues completely unprepared for the lightning bolt about to fire at them. Aidan and two of his superiors calmly handed out letters to all of us, detailing the consequences of the Council’s ‘programme of restructuring’. Vicky and two of my other female colleagues began to sob quietly, while my male friends stared in gut-wrenched silence, eyes not blinking as the awful reality set in. Some idiot from HR who nobody knew then stood up and explained how committed the Council was to ensuring our personal development – a ridiculous stance to take considering it was happily sacking fifteen people. When he asked for any questions he was met by uniform, wordless hatred.
I could feel Aidan’s eyes on me, but I refused to look back, focusing instead on the impersonal general letter in my hand:
We regret to inform you … This is not a personal reflection on your considerable contribution to the Department, rather a necessary measure to protect the financial integrity of the Council …
No longer required.
Out of a job.
Unemployed …
However I looked at the words I couldn’t help but take them personally. This couldn’t be happening to me! Only that morning I’d wished for something to change …
And then, it hit me.
Something had changed. Admittedly not in a good way, but my secret wish had been granted. From this moment on, my life would never be the same again. Nell Sullivan, Assistant Planning Officer, was no more. That chapter of my life had been brought to a sudden end and now …
Well, now what?
The prat from HR was handing out tissues and wittering on about a hastily arranged consultation with a local recruitment agency to follow the end of the meeting. But it was as if I had become cocooned in a bubble, separated from the devastated expressions of my colleagues by a million new thoughts that sparkled and spun around my eyes. I hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t even considered its possibility in my carefully ordered life. And yet, here it was, together with the promise of three months’ wages in one go …
At the end of the meeting, I followed my colleagues out, my heart inexplicably light despite the devastation that surrounded me. Vicky grabbed my arm and pulled me from the line of zombie-like shufflers heading down the corridor to the room set aside for ‘career repositioning advice’.
‘Can you believe they’ve just done that?’ she demanded, trails of blue-black mascara running down her cheeks. ‘Bastards! I’ve just taken out a new mortgage on the house – how on earth am I going to pay for it now?’
‘I don’t know, hun.’
‘And Greg’s had his hours cut at the factory, too … This is such a mess.’
‘You’re telling me,’ the bulky, middle-aged hulk of our colleague Terry appeared beside us. ‘Can’t believe I chose this bloody week to give up smoking. Either of you have any fags?’
We shook our heads and watched him lumber away.
‘I think I might take up smoking,’ Vicky said, staring blankly after Terry. ‘Look at me: I’m shaking, Nell.’ She held out her hand and I could see the light from the strip-lights overhead undulating gently over her newly manicured nails. ‘I’m going to have to phone Greg and tell him. So much for our wedding plans next year.’
‘The agency might have something for you, Vix,’ I suggested, immediately hating myself for sounding like Aidan’s henchwoman. As I considered it, the thought that had begun in the meeting room grew. I didn’t want to be a victim of this. I wanted to do something else …
‘… Of course the Disney World trip Greg wanted to take me and Ruby on is out of the window. I might have to ask Mum to look after Ruby for an extra day because there’ll be no way I can justify paying nursery fees five days a week now. And then I’ll have to endure her endless diatribes on how reckless Greg and I were to have Ruby before we were fully settled. I swear if we have to move back to his parents’ house in Brentwood I will go insane …’
Vicky was listing all the things she now couldn’t afford and I had to force myself away from the burgeoning idea to give her my full attention. ‘Vix, hun, try not to think the worst. I know you’re still in shock – we all are – but we don’t know what the situation is yet. You and Greg have been through worse and look at how happy you guys are. Ruby’s gorgeous and loves you both to bits and you know Greg is a great dad and partner. You’ll work through this.’
She sniffed. ‘You think so?’
‘If anyone can get through this, you guys can.’
‘Thanks, babe. And you will, too. At least you and Aidan patched things up and worst-case scenario you could always move into that big house of his …’
I averted my eyes and she stopped.
‘You did get back together, didn’t you?’
I let out a long sigh. She wasn’t going to like it, but I couldn’t lie to her. ‘No, we didn’t.’
‘I don’t understand. Why call you into his office if he wasn’t going to …?’ Her eyes widened as the truth dawned. ‘Oh my life. You knew …’
‘He asked me not to say anything …’
Her expression darkened. ‘You knew, Nell! You came out of his office and you sat at your desk like nothing had changed, and all the time you knew?’
‘What was I supposed to do? I wasn’t going to be the one who broke everyone’s hearts!’
Vicky shook her head and instantly the room temperature seemed to drop. Deliberately, she turned her back on me and followed the others down the corridor.
What on earth was I supposed to say to her? I knew she was just angry and hitting out at the nearest person, but I felt frustration gnawing at me that she hadn’t afforded me the chance to reply.
‘Probably best to let her go.’ A hand appeared on my shoulder and I turned to see the pinched, triumphant expression of the office secretary. ‘She’s upset: it’s understandable …’
Angrily, I shrugged my shoulder free. ‘Get lost, Connie.’
I didn’t accompany my colleagues to the recruitment agency meeting, instead returning to the office to fetch my bag and coat. I needed to get out for a while, the atmosphere in the office sucking the life from my body and the whirling thoughts in my head making me dizzy.
‘Shall we grab some fresh air?’ It was Aidan, standing a few feet away, his eyes full of concern as he wrung his hands. ‘I don’t know about you, but I need a coffee after that.’
‘No thank you.’ I struggled into my coat and swung my bag over my shoulder.
‘Nell – I know this is hard. But I can look after you. Having to give you that news today made me realise how I feel about you. We’ve been tiptoeing round the subject for months now. Maybe this could be the making of us? I have that big house all to myself, after all. Let’s stop pretending: we’re meant to be together …’
Incredulously, I turned to look at him. ‘Seriously? You’re declaring your love for me now?’
He mistook my tone for surprise, his confident grin widening as he stepped towards me. ‘Yes, baby. Let me look after you. You have to admit this is what we both want …’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was Aidan Matthews so deluded that he thought news of my imminent unemployment was a suitable precursor to renewing our relationship?
‘Go away, Aidan. I don’t think we have anything more to discuss.’
He was staring after me like a dumb animal as I swept out of the office.
I didn’t go far: just for a walk around the periphery of the Council office complex, its landscaped grounds curving around the multi-million-pound building that had been the cause of much controversy when it had been built eight years ago. The flat grey sky cast a subdued light over everything and a lack of breeze made the space seem ominously quiet.
This had not been the way I expected today to pan out. In the space of four hours I had assumed I was getting back with Aidan, discovered I was losing my job, unintentionally offended my best friend and then been propositioned by the man who had just sacked me. Not bad going for a Thursday morning. And now, everything hung precariously like question marks suspended in my mind. How did I really feel about this? What was going to happen with my room in the rented house-share? Without a steady income, things didn’t look promising. How long could I exist on my redundancy pay?
As I walked around the car park, the idea that had occurred to me before my run-in with Vicky returned – and with it, a sense of injustice that grew the more I considered it. Why should I have to obediently sit and wait until I found another job? It might take months to find something else. I only had to watch the news to see how hopeless the jobs situation was right now …
I deserve more than this.
I thought about the figure that had been typed on my redundancy letter. As an indication of how much my soon-to-be former employer thought of my contribution to them, it was an insult. But, as an unexpected lump sum, it could be seen as a bit of a windfall. Perhaps it was a sign that my carefully planned life wasn’t the best way to live. Perhaps it was an opportunity to do something different …
What do you want, Nell Sullivan?
The question presented itself suddenly, stopping me in my tracks. I was hurt and angry and dreading the prospect of being unemployed. I didn’t want this to be my life for the next however many months it would take to find another job. I wanted something positive, something that would build me up, not drag me down.
I want to do something just for me …
And then, it hit me. I could go somewhere – far away from my former job and uncertain future. My trip to New York with Vicky two years ago had been the last time I’d had a proper holiday – the sort that involved plane tickets and duty free, anyway. This could be something just for me. I didn’t just want a break from everyday life: I needed an adventure. And while my measly redundancy settlement wouldn’t go far to pay my bills, it would make a nice little nest-egg to invest in a trip …
It was brilliant. I didn’t know where I wanted to go, only that I needed to do it – and soon.
The devastated visages of my colleagues brought me heavily back to earth when I returned to the office. Terry’s face was grey – although this might have had more to do with the half packet of cigarettes he had just coughed his way through. Dave and Sid, Planning Officers for twenty years each, were sitting like deflated balloon bookends on the edges of Terry’s desk. Nick was trying his best to look sympathetic for everyone while clearly relieved he was still employed. Vicky was slumped in her office chair, systematically peeling the layers of French polish from her nails. She didn’t look up when I arrived.
‘She’s back, then,’ Terry said. ‘We thought you’d legged it.’
‘I just needed to get out for a while.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Couldn’t face seeing the people she sold out,’ Vicky muttered, still not looking at me.
‘Now hang on a minute …’ I began, but Dave held up his hand.
‘It’s OK, Sully. She’s just upset. We all are.’ His smile bore the weight of the world. ‘We know Matthews put you in a position.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You probably shouldn’t be standing around chatting.’ Connie’s expression was one of pure, spiteful delight. ‘Management want you out in ten minutes.’
‘Who told you that?’ Vicky demanded.
‘Mr Matthews. While you were in the recruitment agency meeting.’ Her grin was about as sincere as a politician’s promise. ‘There are cardboard boxes in the meeting room. You might want to use them.’
I could feel the resigned despair of my colleagues as we collected the empty copier paper boxes and began to clear the contents of our desks. Packing my box alongside them, I felt a bit of a fraud: yes, it was horrible and scary, but since my revelation I couldn’t escape a tiny thrill of excitement dancing around within me. The sensible part of me, which had been in charge for most of my life, was uncharacteristically quiet and for the first time in many years I felt as if the constraints of my life had been removed by this curveball of sudden redundancy.
Out on the street we gathered, a box-toting band of newly unemployed people, not ready to walk away from each other yet secretly not wanting to prolong the agony. After a few mumbled words of solidarity and promises to meet soon for a drink, we dispersed. Vicky sniffed and walked over to me.
‘I’m sorry, Nell. I shouldn’t have said what I did.’
Relief flooded through me as I hugged her. ‘It’s OK. You were upset and angry.’
‘And also a bitch. But thanks for understanding.’ She sighed and looked at the sickly cactus that was poking out from her box of belongings. ‘I think I’m going to go straight home. Are you coming to the tube station?’
‘No, not yet.’ I wanted to pursue the thought in my mind while it still burned, before cold reality had a chance to dawn and spoil the party. ‘I just need to – you know …’ I tilted my head in the direction of the shops in the distance.
Vicky clearly thought I was referring to the pub at the end of the street. ‘Don’t blame you. Call me tonight when you get home, OK?’
I watched her slumping frame shuffle away and finally allowed myself to feel the excitement that had been steadily building within me. Taking a deep breath, I turned and walked purposefully down the street, my resolve building with each step.
This is it, Nell Sullivan: this is your time.
A few blocks down from the Council building, I stopped outside a small travel agency. Its windows were filled with cards promising exciting destinations and deals. It was as if I was staring at a gallery of possibilities, each smiling model asking me the same question:
Where are you going, Nell Sullivan?
A young male sales advisor with startlingly lustrous black hair smiled as I entered, his friendly expression flickering a little when I put my cardboard box on his desk. The bushy fronds of my desk plant spilled over the edge of the box, while my stolen office stapler – one final act of defiance against my now former employer – caught the light from his computer monitor.
‘How can I help?’ he managed, scrabbling to reconstruct his professionalism. His name badge read: Hi, I’m Josh.
‘I want to know where I can go for –’ I pulled the folded redundancy notice from my jacket pocket and handed it to him to show him the sum my former employer was willing to pay to be rid of me ‘– this much.’
‘Um, well, lots of places,’ Josh stammered, his travel agent training clearly not having covered crazy customers with pot plants and cardboard boxes. ‘Where would you like to go?’
I hadn’t considered this far ahead in my plan. ‘I’m not sure. I want to do something exciting, something just for me. I’ve just been made redundant, you see.’
‘Wow. I’m sorry to hear that. When?’
‘About three hours ago.’
‘Heck, that’s awful. So you definitely deserve a treat.’ He smiled and heaved a huge stack of brochures onto his desk. ‘OK, let’s start with the kind of things you fancy doing on holiday. Beach?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I want to move about more, I think.’
‘No problem.’ He pulled out four brochures and dropped them onto the floor by the side of his desk. ‘Ski holiday? Watersports?’
‘No. I don’t mind activities but I don’t want to just focus on that.’
‘Excellent.’ Two more brochures were eliminated from the pile. ‘How about a trek? Some kind of adventure trip?’
‘Maybe.’ I tried to picture myself hiking across the Gobi Desert, or climbing the Great Wall of China. Even with the most optimistic version of myself this seemed a little extreme. ‘Actually, no.’
Another brochure was dropped to the brown carpet. ‘Good. We’re making progress.’ After several more questions, Josh’s slightly russet features worked into a smile and he held up a thick brochure. ‘How about the USA?’
On its cover were Rocky Mountains, Las Vegas signs, bustling cities, New England autumn trees and the majestic sweep of the Grand Canyon. ‘America – where anything can happen’ was emblazoned across the images and instantly I felt my heart racing.
‘Yes! That looks amazing.’
‘Excellent.’ Josh nodded and began to flick through the glossy pages. ‘So – America pretty much has something for everyone. What do you want to do? Cities? Beach? Fly-drive?’
My mind was racing. ‘I – I don’t know. Where would you suggest?’
‘Personally, I love Vegas. But Florida is great if you want beaches and theme parks. If history’s your thing there’s New England or Philadelphia. Or how about one of the cities? New York? Chicago? San Francisco …?’
‘That’s it!’ I yelled, making Josh jump and a middle-aged female customer at the next desk frown at me. Giggling, I lowered my voice. ‘Sorry. My cousin Lizzie lives in San Francisco. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before. I could visit her.’
‘Well, it would certainly keep your costs down if you could arrange some of your accommodation.’
‘It would.’ A thought occurred to me. ‘Actually, would you mind if I just made a phone call?’
‘Um, sure. Be my guest.’ From Josh’s expression it was clear this latest development couldn’t make his current customer any odder in his eyes.
I checked my watch, mentally calculating the current time in San Francisco. Seven hours behind GMT – so Lizzie would be just getting up. Or at least that was what I hoped. I dialled her number, willing her to pick up. After more rings than were comfortable, the call connected and a sleepy voice spoke.
‘Hello …?’
‘Lizzie, it’s Nell. Did I wake you?’
‘Who …? Oh Nellie! Hi! Sorry, I’ve not had my coffee yet. How are you? Why on earth are you calling me at seven fifteen in the morning? Is everything alright?’
I giggled. ‘I’m fine. Well, apart from losing my job today. It’s so good to speak to you!’
‘You lost your job? Oh Nell, that’s terrible! I’m so sorry …’
‘It’s OK, honestly. But I have a bit of a favour to ask – and please say no if it’s going to be an imposition …’
‘Ask away.’ I could hear the whirr of a coffee machine in the background and tried to imagine my cousin’s apartment in the colourful Haight-Ashbury district of the city that I’d seen from the photos she’d sent with her annual Christmas letter to me.
‘I’m going to get some redundancy money and I’ve decided I want to do something different for a few weeks. How would you feel if I came to visit you?’
The squeal from my cousin reverberated around the travel agency, eliciting another disdainful glance from the disgruntled customer next to me.
‘That would be amazing! How long do you want to come for?’
Everything was progressing with such speed that I hadn’t even considered how long my adventure was going to last. Plucking a number from thin air, I replied, ‘Six weeks?’
‘Great. Or why not make it eight?’
‘Lizzie, would that be OK?’
‘Of course! It’ll give you a chance to sightsee and really get a feel for the place. And I can show you around – you can meet my friends and be an honorary San Franciscan!’
Five minutes later, I ended the call. It was happening so fast, but it felt right. My mind was made up – there was no time to waste. ‘Right. I’d like to go to San Francisco next week. For two months, please!’
Two months in a brand new city. Two months to experience everything San Francisco had to offer me. Two months to throw caution to the wind and be somebody different to dutiful Nell Sullivan, former Assistant Planning Officer. It was perfect …
CHAPTER THREE
Pack up your troubles
‘You’re doing what?’
My housemates – Charlotte, Sarah and Tom – were staring at me as if I’d just dyed my hair green. Already suspicious when I’d called a house meeting, they were now sitting like the Three Wise (and Grumpy) Monkeys on the faded IKEA sofa in the living room of our shared house in Woodford. I couldn’t blame them for their suspicion: the last time we’d had a house meeting was six years ago to find out which of us knew the slightly odd man who had been sleeping on our sofa since a house party the week before. (It turned out, none of us did – and we had, in fact, been feeding and housing a random bloke who’d wandered in from the street while the party was in full flow …)
‘I lost my job yesterday. So I’m going to San Francisco for eight weeks,’ I repeated, hoping this time they would understand.
They didn’t.
‘Excuse me?’ Sarah crossed her long legs and looked at me like the headmistress she was working hard to become. Her teacher’s tone, when inflicted, could reduce a grown man to tears. I had seen this happen on several occasions, more often than not the man in question being her boyfriend Tom, who now appeared to be cowering on my behalf. ‘Have you even thought this through? What are you going to do for money once your redundancy payment runs out? And what about your room, Nell? We can’t afford to carry two people on the dole.’
She shot an accusing look at Tom, who visibly winced. It was common knowledge that Sarah had been supporting him financially since he was laid off from a London advertising agency. Tom’s experience of unemployment was another reason why I didn’t want to stay in the UK wallowing. He might have been content to spend the last six months in his pyjamas playing X-Box and watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta, but it was my idea of hell.
‘I am trying to get a job,’ he protested, sounding more like a whining three-year-old than a tragic victim of the recession. ‘It’s tough out there. For what it’s worth, Nell, I think you’ve got the right idea. Get out while you can.’
‘Tom …’ Sarah growled through gritted teeth, ‘you’re not helping.’ She turned back to me. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, Nell, I think you’re being completely irresponsible.’
Charlotte, who up until now had remained silent, folded her arms and nodded in agreement. In all the time we’d shared a house, I hadn’t managed to click with her. My latest bombshell was unlikely to change this.
‘Well, that’s your opinion,’ I replied. They had never shown much interest in my life to this point, beyond when rent was due or if I’d been baking. I could hardly expect them to start now. ‘But I want to do this. And if it backfires horribly, I’m happy to bear the consequences.’
As if I didn’t exist, Charlotte turned to Sarah, flicking her too-straight blonde hair – which, apart from her eyes that seemed to stare directly through your skull, was her only truly remarkable feature. ‘Dave could move in.’
‘Could he?’ Sarah’s mood lifted from annoyed to mildly ruffled.
‘I think so. He has a good job –’ she aimed the emphasis directly at me, but I was impervious to it ‘– he’s reliable and he’d make a great housemate.’
‘Um, Nell’s still here?’ Tom said, but Sarah wasn’t listening. Clearly Charlotte’s suggestion appealed to her. Knowing how much like immature schoolgirls they could be I guessed she was probably already imagining the two couples playing house and co-ordinating a double wedding …
Sarah beamed. ‘It’s perfect. When are you moving out, Nell?’
I didn’t mind her reaction, or the blatant glee with which Charlotte and Sarah helped me to clear out my room later that day. Of course, Charlotte and Sarah made polite small talk as we worked but I knew we wouldn’t miss each other. We had never really bonded anyway – the house-share was nothing more than a sensible choice until I could afford a place of my own. The fact was we only really interacted when we passed in the hallway or occasionally met up when bills needed paying. If we’d been close friends I imagined it could have been harder to leave: as it was, they were surprisingly easy to walk away from.