by Nina Kaye
‘It is, yes,’ he confirms with a strong Germanic accent. ‘I am looking forward to working with you, Alex.’
‘Me too.’ I meet his kind eyes and already feel like we’ll get along. ‘Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘I am from the north of Germany. From Hamburg.’
‘Well, that will certainly help with communications with the Frankfurt office.’ I notice Danielle out of the corner of my eye. ‘And Danielle is our French-speaking champion, I gather.’
Danielle looks immediately smug, which I note with interest sparks some subtle negative reactions round the table.
‘All we need now is a resident Spanish speaker and we’ve got a full house. Anyone?’ I look round the table jovially. ‘No? Oh well, I’m sure Google Translate will come in handy there.’
‘Dhruv and I can speak Punjabi,’ Aadesh offers. ‘If there is ever the need.’
‘In this connected world, it’s good to have as many bases covered as possible.’ I grin at Aadesh, mentally filing away that piece of information.
‘Everyone pretty much speaks English anyway.’ Danielle divebombs the conversation and, seemingly without realising it, her own usefulness as a French speaker. ‘It’s people in the UK who are ignorant and don’t bother learning other languages. I, for one, have made it my personal mission to speak at least three languages fluently.’
She’s dying for me to ask which ones, but I can see that she’s deflating the positive and collaborative ambience at the table, so I decide to move things on.
‘Good for you.’ I give Danielle an acknowledging nod and sit myself down at the table. ‘Now, I hear the food at this place is great. What do you all recommend?’
‘Well handled,’ I hear Emmanuel whisper, as she takes her seat next to me.
Chapter 13
By the time I get back to my apartment that evening, I’m beyond exhausted. I kick off my trainers (which I wear to and from the office), dump my bag, and collapse onto my bed.
It’s not the same exhaustion I felt after returning to work from my sickness absence. My low-level MS symptoms are playing a part, as they now do every single day, but the overriding feeling is one of information overload. So many new names, new faces, new structures, processes and procedures. Overall, it seems like it will be a great place to work and I’m just desperate to get stuck in. I always hate having to be shown the ropes and getting up to speed; my natural instincts are to be in control and moving things forward. But it shouldn’t be more than a few days before I can take the project reins and get us off and running.
My relationship with Danielle, however, is going to be a different story. She spent much of lunch and the rest of the afternoon emitting her laser beam of superiority: her knowledge of the company, her apparent closeness to the chief executive, and her understanding of the project from the data analysis she’s completed so far. She’s going to be a royal pain in the arse. Nothing I can’t handle, but it is going to require careful managing, which has the capacity to zap my energy pretty quickly. I’m just so relieved she doesn’t know about my medical situation: a weapon I suspect she would use and abuse.
This is something I would ordinarily have discussed with Dom, keen to get his take on things and sharing that feeling of camaraderie. I feel a wave of sadness wash over me as the familiar Dom-shaped hole in my life opens up once again, and I realise that I have nobody to chew the Danielle issue over with. How isolated that makes me feel.
Unwilling to engage with this concept, and determined to think that I’m made of stronger stuff, I push the emptiness aside. Danielle is not going to take over my evening as well, so I turn on the TV to the six o’clock news headlines. I lie there for about twenty minutes, not really taking anything in but unable to muster the energy to do anything else. After a while, my mind starts to wander and lands on the memory of Matt from the train. He was so fun and charming, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. Did I overreact by binning his number? I clearly liked him, and we did have a connection. But our lives couldn’t have been further apart – he scales hills for fun while I can barely manage a flight of stairs. No. It was a non-starter.
Eventually I tear my thoughts away from Matt and drag myself off the bed and into the kitchen to make some food. Just as I’m preparing a tofu salad my phone starts to ring in my bag, so I pad through to the hallway and dig out my phone to see that the caller is Sasha. My first instinct is to let it go to voicemail. I’m just too tired to engage in any more conversation today. But there’s something inside me that just won’t let me do that. Instead I hit the answer button.
‘Sash, how you doing? Everything OK?’
Sasha’s bouncy yet anxious voice echoes in my ear canal. ‘Hiya, Lex. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to know how your first day went?’
‘It was fine.’ I rub my forehead exhaustedly, an automatic response to the high energy of Sasha’s side of the interaction.
‘Just fine?’
‘No, sorry, it was good. Really good.’
‘Tell me more. What were the people like?’
I return to my bedroom and lie back on the bed as I currently don’t have the stamina to stand and talk at the same time. I recap the day for Sasha, telling her Emmanuel and I are on the same wavelength and the rest of the team seem nice and capable. I also mention Danielle and the trouble she’s already causing.
‘Oh, Lex, that’s not good. You don’t need that with your…’ She trails off.
‘With my what?’ I instinctively challenge her.
There’s a silence, then a smaller voice comes down the line. ‘Nothing. Sorry, just ignore me.’
‘I’ll be fine, Sash. I get why you’re concerned, but you know me. I’m good at dealing with difficult people. Maybe not as exceptionally good as I was, but I’m still right up there. Way better than you,’ I add to punctuate the point, then immediately feel a pinch of shame at my meanness.
‘That’s not hard.’ The vibrancy returns to her voice and she giggles, taking no offence whatsoever. ‘Not sure there’s anyone who runs faster from conflict than me.’
‘Aww, you’re not that bad.’
‘Bad enough that I’m too scared to broach the whole Birmingham thing with my mum.’
I grimace, wondering why Sasha still isn’t showing any sign of shutting this move thing down. ‘That’s different. Your mum’s ill. It will really affect her if you move.’ I pause and consider whether to go on. ‘Look, Sash, it’s lovely that you want to come and join me, but I’m not sure I should be your first priority. Your mum needs you much more than I do.’
There’s another silence at the end of the phone.
‘Sash?’
‘I know you don’t need me,’ she says eventually. ‘I was really worried about you before, but I’ve seen that you can look after yourself. At least, you can when your symptoms aren’t too troublesome.’
‘So, what’s going on?’
She exhales sharply. ‘I don’t know. I guess… seeing you go off and make a new life for yourself, it’s made me think about my own. I’m worried I’m going to get forty years down the road and regret never having properly lived – all because I’m too scared to take any risks.’
‘But it’s not just about risks, it’s about your mum too. You have very strong family values. You’d feel so guilty if you left her. How would she even cope?’
‘I don’t… my mum doesn’t need… oh, what’s the point in covering this up? I think she’d manage just fine, Lex.’
‘Sorry, what?’ I wonder if I’ve heard correctly. ‘Sash, what are you talking about?’
‘I caught her out.’
‘What do you mean you caught her out? You’re not making any sense.’
‘What I mean is, I was really fed up at work the other day, so I asked if I could take a half-day. On my way home, I decided to stop by my mum’s place to check on her and I caught her…’ Sasha’s voice wobbles as she trails off, sounding ashamed.
‘You caught her wh
at?’
The silence resumes once again.
‘Sasha? Spit it out.’
‘I caught her having sex with a man.’
‘WHAT?’ I’m so shocked, I sit bolt upright on my bed. ‘Wait, how? No, sorry that’s a stupid question. I thought she was way too ill for that. She has to walk with a frame. She can hardly breathe. And… I mean, does she even have a bloke?’
‘These were all questions I asked myself, believe me.’ Sasha now sounds quite miserable.
‘Well, what did she say when you caught her?’
‘Nothing. She doesn’t know. She was… in the moment.’
‘Eww!’ I wail. ‘That’s so gross.’
‘It is. I can’t get the image out of my head. She wasn’t the mum I’ve known these recent years. She was so… energetic.’
‘Stop it, please. I can’t take any more.’ I start to laugh and then clamp my hand over my mouth as I realise this is no joke to Sasha. ‘So, are you going to have it out with her?’
‘I am,’ she says quietly. ‘At least, I want to. But I’m really crap at these things, as you well know. I wanted to get my facts straight, so when she was having a bath one evening, I went through her cupboards and found her medical letters.’
‘And?’
‘And the night she went into hospital with a heart attack, it turns out it was just a panic attack.’
‘Huh? Why would she tell you she had a heart—’
‘Hang on, there’s more.’ Sasha uncharacteristically silences me. ‘There’s absolutely nothing relating to a long-term heart condition in any of her paperwork either. Her official diagnosis is ME.’
‘ME? But that’s a serious condition as well.’ I’m back to rubbing my forehead exhaustedly, but this time from trying to follow the complexity and complete absurdity of this story. ‘Why would she lie to you about that?’
‘I wondered that myself. And then I figured it out. It’s because she’s faking it. ME can be faked because it’s so difficult to confirm it. But my mum obviously thought it would sound more convincing if she told me she had a heart condition – and it’s not like I could go and ask the doctors, due to the whole patient confidentiality thing. Lex, I think my mum’s a benefits cheat.’
My jaw drops as I put it all together. She’s right. What else could it all mean?
‘Shit, Sash. I’m so sorry. All these years and she’s been at it the whole time. You’re going to face up to her about it, right?’
‘I really want to.’ Sasha sounds despondent. ‘I just don’t know how.’
As she says this, I feel genuinely saddened. Sasha’s spent the last seven or so years putting her life on hold to look after her mum – all for nothing. She’s the most genuine, caring person I’ve ever met and she’s been completely taken advantage of. And for what? So her mum could live a lazy, selfish life, and keep her daughter from moving on and living her own.
With these thoughts swimming round my mind, I realise I’ve been a bit selfish too. I’ve been so focused on restarting my life on my terms, I’ve forgotten my best friend needs me. My support is everything to her, as much as her being able to support me. A two-way relationship – as it should be. I also realise that I really miss Sasha. She’s the only person I can truly rely on, and I want her back in my life properly, just like before.
‘You know what?’ I say to her suddenly. ‘You can work up to having it out with her. Take it one step at a time. First thing you need to do is come down and visit – in the next few weeks. Leave her on her own for a weekend and let her fend for herself. We can catch up, make a weekend of it, and you can see if you actually like it here before you make any kind of decision.’
‘Oh, Lex, really?’ Sasha sounds encouraged at this suggestion. ‘Are you sure? You might find it too tiring so soon into your new job. Not because you have MS, but because everyone gets exhausted in a new job,’ she rushes to add.
‘I’m sure. I’ll be settled properly in a few weeks. And while you’re down we can work out how you’re going to handle your mum.’
‘That would be amazing. Thanks, Lex.’
I’m pleased to hear Sasha’s spirits lift. ‘OK, great. Plan sorted – can’t wait. Now go and book your tickets, and let me get my dinner before I keel over from day-one exhaustion.’
Chapter 14
By the end of my second week at Fletcher & Co, I’m getting my bearings and the real work has started. We’re finishing up our final meeting of the day: a virtual meeting with our German, French and Spanish project teammates, with whom we’ve been completing a full walkthrough of the project plan.
‘OK, everyone,’ I address my teammates in the room, as well as those who have joined via the video call system, ‘I think that’s everything for today. Thanks for all your input. We’re making good progress. Have a great weekend and I’ll talk to you again next week.’
There’s a chorus of thanks and goodbyes, some of them expressed in their own languages. I end the video call and turn to my colleagues.
‘I think that went well for a first walkthrough. What do you think?’
‘It was good,’ says Felix. ‘I am seeing now how I can align the change plan to your project plan.’
‘I’m much clearer too.’ Dhruv nods agreement.
‘Great.’ I smile at them. ‘That’s what I was hoping to hear.’
‘Actually, I think there are some key tasks missing from the plan,’ Danielle pipes up in her syrupy voice.
My senses go into high alert at this suggestion. ‘Really? I thought we covered everything at the workshop earlier this week.’
‘You haven’t included some of the key reporting elements in the plan.’ Danielle purses her lips in a way that tells me she’s withheld this information on purpose.
I study her for a moment. ‘Right. And did we cover them at the workshop?’
‘I did mention them. But I’m not sure you were listening.’
I pause for a moment to stop myself having an immediate (and probably unhelpful) reaction to this statement. Even if Danielle did bring up these points – which I’m certain she did not – she had every opportunity to cover them during the call we just had. She’s trying to undermine me again to weaken my credibility. I can tell she’s looking for a reaction, but there’s no way I’m giving her the satisfaction. Instead, I calmly type a reminder into my laptop, then close it down.
‘OK, thanks for flagging that, Danielle. I’ve set a reminder for Monday. We can sit down and ensure that everything is included.’
‘No problem. Happy to help.’ Danielle flashes me one of her ‘sincere’ smiles that I can see through better than a freshly cleaned window.
‘So, are we hitting the pub?’ Dhruv asks, just as Emmanuel appears through the meeting room door.
‘We are indeed.’ She grins broadly at us all. ‘You lot definitely deserve to let your hair down after such a productive week. I’m amazed you’ve almost got the project plan nailed down already.’
‘Credit for that has to go to Alex.’ Dhruv aims finger guns at me. ‘She’s quite the machine – in a good way, I mean.’
From his face, I can tell he’s just realised the possible connotations of his remark.
‘I can see the compliment in that, don’t worry,’ I reassure him. ‘And it’s been a team effort, all right? There would be no plan if it weren’t for the hard work you all put in.’
My team members all beam as I say this, pleased to have their efforts recognised. That is, all of them except Danielle, who I catch subtly rolling her eyes. I’m not the only one to clock this; Emmanuel does too.
‘Well done to you all.’ She looks at each of us meaningfully in turn. ‘But especially well done to Alex, who hasn’t just grabbed the bull by the horns, she’s hurled it right in the direction we need to land.’
Somewhat uncomfortable receiving this level of praise in front of my team, I quickly change the subject. ‘Right, I’m pretty sure someone said the word pub. What are we waiting for? Let’s go.’
How much my life has changed in just a few weeks. From the claustrophobic, limited state it had reached back in Glasgow, to the complete reinvention of myself here in Birmingham. Nobody here knows of my illness and I can plan for every situation, adapting the way I go about my life to fit with my medical needs without interference from my family or Sasha. I have, in preparation for this evening (and in true project manager style), already thought through how I’ll handle it.
We make our way across the plaza, chatting in that adrenaline-fuelled ‘Friday feeling’ kind of way. Aware that I’m still the newbie and careful not to step on any toes, I stick firmly to the role of participant, rather than driving the banter. Dhruv, it turns out, is resident joker on the team. We’re laughing helplessly at his re-enactment of a recent interaction with his mother – who doesn’t speak much English – when suddenly it’s like my foot seems to malfunction and I fall heavily onto the steps by the plaza’s fountain. I go down hard and a shooting pain rushes through me as my knee collides with the sharp edge of the step. It takes everything I have not to cry out in agony.
‘Alex. Shit. Are you OK?’ Dhruv doubles back and rushes to my aid, closely followed by Emmanuel.
‘I’m… yeah… oh, that was sore.’ I’m now sitting on the step, holding my injured knee, my face burning with embarrassment.
‘It is bad? You think you can walk? I can give you a piggy-back if you like.’
Thankfully, this kind-but-ridiculous suggestion has the effect of distracting me from my pain and my wounded pride.
