‘Trouble at mill,’ Brendan said – his well-used Monty Python quote that was often trotted out so casually taking on a far more sombre quality this time.
‘What kind of trouble?’ Posy said. ‘Not the Spanish Inquisition?’
She started to smile, but clearly she hadn’t read the room well enough. Even as she’d fired the reply that would usually have Brendan grinning in recognition, she realised that this was no time to joke. The smile died before it had bloomed.
‘The company’s in trouble,’ Shania, who sat at the desk next to Posy’s, said. She could be melodramatic sometimes but, even knowing that, Posy was starting to realise that she ought to be getting worried. Something had everyone seriously rattled. There were workplace dramas all the time, but they didn’t ever leave the room feeling quite so charged as it did right now.
Posy slowly shrugged off her jacket, her eyes still searching the faces of people who were more than colleagues; they were friends too. ‘When you say trouble…’
‘Money,’ Shania said.
‘Or a lack of it,’ Adele, one of the more senior designers, put in. Adele had been with the company since its founding – fifteen years now. She was Joanna’s go-to for big clients and contracts. She looked worried, and perhaps, if she looked this worried, it was time for Posy to start being worried too.
‘Surely it can’t be all that serious?’ Posy asked. She was struggling to understand just what was going on. ‘Who told you this? What did they say, exactly?’
‘Joanna’s in with Cameron now,’ Shania said. ‘Hardeep overheard them. They mentioned redundancies, reduced hours…’
Posy vaguely wondered how long Hardeep had been listening in and whether he really ought to have been at all, but she let the thought drift for now. She also wondered how she hadn’t heard whispers of any of this before. In most workforces as tight-knit as theirs someone would have heard some rumour or other about belt-tightening or cashflow problems, but, unless that person had kept it very securely to themselves, nobody had as far as she knew.
She glanced around and wondered which of her colleagues might already be aware of this and who would have kept it to themselves if they had, but she just couldn’t imagine who might do that. Perhaps it didn’t really matter in the end – even if she had heard anything like that, what could she have done about it? Would she have taken it seriously or just put it down to gossip? Maybe it was a question for later – right now there were more pressing concerns.
Adele folded her arms. ‘I, for one, can’t afford to reduce my hours and I certainly can’t take redundancy. I’ve just bought a ridiculously large house…’ she let out a sigh. ‘I should have known it would be a risk… Just my bloody luck.’
So, Adele had clearly been as much in the dark as Posy. That ruled one of her colleagues out of the secret-keeping.
‘I’m on a temporary contract so I suppose I’ll go first,’ Shania said glumly.
‘You’ve been on that contract for about three years now and they keep renewing it.’ Posy tried to sound encouraging. ‘You were only supposed to be here for six months, weren’t you? They must think you’re really good. You’ll probably be OK.’
‘I’m the same as Shania,’ Hardeep said. ‘I don’t think whether they appreciate our talents or not has anything to do with it this time. I wonder if they’ve seen this coming for a long time and that’s why they never offered us a permanent contract, just kept extending me and Shania. Who was the last person to be taken on permanently?’
‘I think that would be me,’ Posy said, and as she glanced around a few people nodded agreement. ‘So if it’s last in first out then I would have to take the redundancy.’
‘We don’t know any of this is going to happen for certain,’ Brendan said. ‘Maybe we’re all jumping the gun a bit offering to fall on our swords… if that isn’t too many metaphors in one sentence there…’
‘I certainly haven’t offered to fall on anyone’s sword,’ Adele said, turning sharply to him. ‘What part of bigger mortgage don’t you understand? I can’t afford to lose my position here.’
‘I don’t suppose any of us can,’ Posy said.
‘I could offer to resign,’ a young girl with short orange hair said. Posy scrabbled for her name. She’d just joined them a couple of weeks before and Posy hadn’t had much time to chat to her. Adele jumped in to put Posy out of her misery.
‘Becky, you’re the intern – we don’t pay you anyway!’
‘Oh… of course… Well, you do pay me a little… I suppose it’s not really enough to make a difference…’
Becky blushed, her gaze going to the ground.
‘She’s just trying to help,’ Posy said. She realised that Adele was stressed and scared but still she felt that her admonishment had been a little harsh. She tried to give Becky an encouraging smile, but Becky didn’t look up long enough to catch it.
A cacophony of faint pings echoed in the brief silence that filled the room: messages going to every computer, all at the same time.
‘Aye, aye,’ Brendan said grimly, his native Yorkshire burr the strongest Posy had ever heard it in all the time she’d worked with him. She wondered if times of extreme drama brought it out – because this was a time of extreme drama in anyone’s book. He strode to his desk and opened up his message.
‘We’ve got a full staff meeting this afternoon.’
‘I’ve got the same email,’ Adele said, calling over from her desk. ‘I think we’re all cc’d in.’
‘Brace yourselves,’ Brendan said, looking round the room. ‘Things are about to get interesting.’
Chapter Nine
Posy could barely believe it. By the end of the month she’d be unemployed for the first time since she’d graduated from university. In fact, even then she hadn’t been unemployed because she’d plugged the gap between graduation and her first design job (this design job, as it happened) with part-time work at a pizzeria – the same one she’d worked at all through university. Perhaps that was why she felt strangely calm about it all – it hadn’t really sunk in yet, and perhaps when it finally did she’d become the proverbial headless chicken, firing out panicked applications for any dead-end job that would have her.
‘You’ve got your savings at least,’ Carmel said soothingly. ‘And you can stay here with me as long as you like – you know that. Your forever home if you want it.’
Posy clasped the glass containing a crisp and ice-cold sample of the cider that had arrived only that morning – an event that was now so utterly eclipsed by everything else that had happened since it felt like a lifetime ago. She’d been so positive and so happy as she’d left the house for work – how different the end of a day could be to the way in which it had begun.
‘That money was supposed to be for my own place. I know I have a forever home here but it’s not what people do, is it? I have to move out sooner or later.’
‘And I’m sure you’ll get a job sooner rather than later too. Chances are you won’t need to use much of your savings at all.’
‘Hmm. Only there’s three of us chasing every design job in London and two of us are a lot more experienced. I’m about the least qualified of everyone being let go at Torsten.’
‘Experience isn’t everything. You’re young, fresh, full of fire… creative industries love that. It might give you more of an advantage than you think.’
While Posy appreciated her mum’s optimism she wasn’t quite as convinced. But she smiled bravely and tried to share it.
‘At least I’ll have some time on my hands to do some things for me – until I get another job anyway.’
‘You could help me in the pottery.’
Posy raised her eyebrows slightly. ‘You don’t need me in the pottery – there’s just about enough work coming in to keep you busy. And I don’t have the delicate touch you have. If your clients want house bricks then maybe I’m your girl, but anything daintier than that I’m afraid is just not in my skill set.’
‘It
’s only a matter of practice,’ Carmel said. ‘You’d be as good as me in no time if you were making it every day – probably better.’
‘I suppose a change is as good as a rest,’ Posy said doubtfully, attempting to convince herself as she spoke, trying to picture herself at her mum’s wheel, confidently throwing an elegant vase or bespoke soup tureen. ‘And it would be nice to spend time in the studio with you.’
‘If you decide you fancy giving it a go we could trial it. You’re not a total novice, after all. I don’t think it would take you long to hone your skills and we could chase more commissions with two of us working. In fact, I think the idea is rather exciting. Your redundancy might prove to be a blessing in disguise.’
‘The last time I threw a pot was at uni,’ Posy reminded her. ‘I might not be a total novice but I won’t be far off – and I wasn’t exactly skilled back then. I think it might take more training than you imagine.’
‘A bit of rust always polishes off,’ Carmel said. ‘I don’t think it would take you long.’
Posy smiled ruefully. ‘Well, I’ve got four weeks yet so I suppose I can get some practice in before I join you properly – that’s assuming I do. I haven’t decided what I’m doing yet. I love that you want me to join you but I think it’s a good idea to look for a job anyway. It’s hardly a long-term solution, even if it does work out.’
‘It won’t work out if you’ve already decided it won’t. And what about all those times you’ve talked about starting out on your own?’
‘Working in the studio with you isn’t exactly on my own, is it? Besides, that was supposed to be once I’d got my own place and money behind me – that’s years off yet.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘The time just isn’t right, Mum.’
‘Sometimes you have to accept that the time will never be right. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith regardless.’
‘I thought you were supposed to be the sensible one,’ Posy said with a wry smile. ‘Not encouraging me to be reckless.’
‘I’m not, I’m just helping you to explore your options. You’re at a crossroads and it seems to be the perfect time to do that. And look at it this way – perhaps now is exactly the right time because you have precisely zero to lose. You don’t have a mortgage or rent to pay, you don’t have a partner who might be relying on you as the breadwinner, or children to put through school. Money in the bank or not, it might be the time to take the gamble because you have support in the form of your dad and I if it doesn’t pay off, and you’re still young enough to go back into the workplace and continue where you left off in your career if you have to. I’d never have pushed you, but I’ve been able to see for some time you’ve been itching to put on those wings and see what the sun is like from close up.’
‘Don’t forget Icarus fell to his death,’ Posy said.
‘I know, because his dad let him go too high and wasn’t there to catch him. That’s the difference – your dad and I would always catch you.’
‘It’s not that I don’t appreciate that, but, as I said before, if I worked in the pottery I’d be working for you – I wouldn’t be on my own at all.’
‘Then do something else. Design, paint… you’re good at those things. The opportunities are out there if you figure out where to look. Or if you tried potting and took to it I could make you a partner and we could expand, fifty–fifty equals.’
‘Working with you does sound lovely, Mum, if only because I think it would be super chilled, but maybe it would be too chilled and I’d get complacent. I need to be pushed. I’m sorry, and please don’t be offended, but I think I need to find my own thing.’
‘I’m not in the least offended. I’m glad we’re able to have this discussion if it helps to give you some food for thought. You know that whatever you decide I’ll be here to support you.’
‘I know.’ Posy gave her a fond smile. ‘I’m so lucky to have you.’
‘Not as lucky as I am to have you.’ Carmel raised her glass. ‘To the lucky Dashwood girls!’
‘Absolutely!’ Posy lifted her own glass with a laugh. She took a long draught of her cider and smacked her lips. ‘This really is incredibly good stuff,’ she said, gazing into the amber depths of the glass. ‘I’ve never been a cider drinker but I could get used to this.’
‘So could I,’ Carmel agreed. ‘A glass of this on a sunny terrace overlooking the fields…’
‘So not in the conservatory with the rain beating on the roof overlooking our cramped garden?’
‘I suppose I could still enjoy it that way in the absence of any better option,’ Carmel said with a light laugh.
‘Do you ever think about leaving London?’ Posy asked after a short silence.
‘What brought that on?’
‘I don’t know… As you get older do you think you might like to live somewhere quieter?’
‘Sometimes,’ Carmel said.
‘You could work from anywhere and so can Dad. What’s stopping you?’
‘I don’t know. It’s a lot of hassle, I suppose. And better the devil you know and all that. I don’t really know where I’d like to be instead. I don’t feel that pull to a specific place as so many others who decide to up sticks and change their lives do.’
‘Like Karen at the guest house?’
‘Exactly. I envy Karen. She knew at once where she wanted to be but I’ve never really felt that. I’ve never had to think about it either. My life was in London as a youngster, and then as you grew up you built your life here too.’
‘So I’m the reason you’re staying now?’
‘Of course not, but it’s a factor. The idea of moving to the country is lovely but the reality isn’t always like that, I’m sure. There are plenty of good things about living in the city that I think I’d miss. You never get bored for a start – there’s always something happening.’
‘True,’ Posy agreed. ‘Although, sometimes even I feel I could do with an excuse to slow down.’
Carmel raised her eyebrows in disbelief. ‘What kind of statement is that at your age?’
Posy laughed. ‘I know. Secretly, deep down, I think I’m just a boring person who likes simple things. I keep up appearances and try to fit in with the cool crowd, but I’m beginning to wonder whether I wouldn’t be happier on a farm somewhere bumbling around picking apples or something.’
‘Could this be the after-effects of our visit to Astercombe? We all know a brief idyllic visit is very different from the realities of living somewhere.’
‘But couldn’t you see yourself doing what Karen did one day?’
‘Throwing my life here into the air to run a guest house? God no! That’s far too much socialising for me. I’m happiest locked in my studio.’
‘Not the hotel, but living in the countryside…’
Carmel paused for a moment, her eyes on the windows. ‘Perhaps one day,’ she began slowly. ‘It’s not as simple as all that.’
‘Isn’t it? Surely you just go if you want to?’
‘If it were that easy everyone would be doing it.’
‘Lots of people do. You know what you said to me about making the leap. Don’t you envy Giles and Sandra and Asa their lives, just a little?’
‘It wouldn’t be like that for us and we certainly wouldn’t be living in a glorious place like Oleander House.’ Carmel studied her daughter for a moment. ‘You really have been thinking about this, haven’t you? Anyone would think you wanted me to go.’
‘I don’t unless you want to…’
‘And you’d come with me?’
‘I suppose I might…’ Posy gave her a lopsided smile. ‘I suppose it might be an adventure… don’t you think?’
‘I think you might find the opposite is true and you’d be pining for the bright lights of home after a month of “adventurous” country living.’
‘It might be fun to try, though. You must think that.’
‘Decisions like that aren’t made because they’ll be fun. Decision
s like that can alter the course of a life and they have to be thought through. If you get it wrong—’
‘But you don’t know until you try. Nobody does, even when they feel certain. Don’t you think?’
Carmel smiled slowly. ‘I think you’re in a strange mood. You’ve just had earth-shattering news on top of earth-shattering news and you’re trying to process it. I think you should give yourself a couple of days to do that and then talk to me again about whether it’s a good idea to throw our life into the air and see where it lands.’
Posy grinned. ‘But I thought you said this was the time to try something new…’
‘Did I? That was rather silly of me, now that I think of it. And if I did, I meant something new career-wise. Life somewhere like Astercombe would be charming, I’m sure, but I don’t know what kind of career you could build there. Let’s face it, the opportunities – or the majority of them – are in London.’
‘Are they? Maybe twenty years ago that was true but we have technology now that means I could potentially work from anywhere.’
‘Yes, but why there?’
‘Why not there? Why not anywhere else? I’m not even saying there, I’m just hypothesising. Why do we have to stay in London?’
‘You really want to leave?’
‘No… I don’t know. I only wonder if a change of scenery might do me good and this seems like the time to do it, if I’m ever going to. I mean, I have a reason, a link to Astercombe now, don’t I? Just like Karen had. It all feels like a sign. And please don’t think for a minute that this changes anything I said to you about you and Dad always being the most important people in my life. But…’
Carmel was silent for a moment. Posy took another sip of her crisp and tart cider; she could almost taste every apple in Oleander’s orchard.
‘Perhaps you ought to talk to Asa,’ Carmel said finally.
‘Asa?’
‘He was keen to have you help with his annexe redesign, wasn’t he? He said there was no pay, of course, but I’m sure they’d put you up and feed you. And they did seem keen to see a lot more of you.’
The Little Orchard on the Lane: An absolutely perfect and uplifting romantic comedy Page 9
