The Accidental Life Swap

by Jennifer Joyce

  ‘I already have a coffee, thank you very much.’ Although Vanessa is using pleasantries, the words are fired at me with a sneer.

  ‘I could tell Vanessa needed a pick-me-up this morning.’ Sonia’s voice makes me jump, and the file slips from under my arm, joining the mess of pens on the floor. I didn’t realise my colleague was in the office, skulking in the corner. She smiles sweetly – almost patronisingly – at our boss. ‘She’s having a tough time.’

  ‘Oh?’ Dumping the coffee tray on Vanessa’s desk, I crouch down to pick up the file. Luckily, none of the pages have come loose. ‘Anything I can help with?’

  Sonia snorts, and when I steal a look behind me, she’s shaking her head at Vanessa while rolling her eyes. She emerges from her corner by the window and perches on the edge of Vanessa’s desk, as though they’re the best of buddies. Equals. Sitting in such close proximity, I realise how similar the pair look. Both have bleached white-blonde hair, stark against their defined brows and tanned skin (Vanessa’s due to three weeks in Barbados, Sonia’s courtesy of Sunny Dayz, the tanning shop she rushes to every lunchtime to keep her tan topped up). They’re even dressed alike this morning in silk shirts with pussy-bow collars, Vanessa’s a navy, long-sleeved shirt while Sonia has opted for an indigo-and-white striped sleeveless version. I attempted to emulate Vanessa’s style this morning, but Sonia has gone one better. She’s beaten me, again.

  ‘This problem is going to take more than a coffee run, sweetie.’ Sonia crosses her arms and her eyes flick upwards again. Snotty cow. I wish I was the kind of person who could call others out on their rudeness, but I’m not. I’m a pushover. Always have been, always will be, no matter how much it frustrates me.

  Sonia and I started working at Vanessa Whitely Events on the same day. While I’d been offered the role as Vanessa’s PA, Sonia had joined the company as one of the receptionists. We’d both recently graduated, and this was our first proper job. We should have bonded, but instead battle lines were drawn as Sonia made it her mission to rise to the top as quickly as possible, trampling on anyone she had to on the way up. While she was quickly replaced by Emma on the reception desk after being promoted to event planner, I’m still Vanessa’s assistant, with no say in the events the company managed, no matter how many ideas I have whirling around my head.

  ‘I don’t know about that, actually.’ Vanessa sits upright, her movement so sudden and unexpected that I almost topple backwards in my crouched position. ‘Maybe you can help.’

  ‘She can?’ Sonia’s brow furrows as she looks from Vanessa, to me, and back again.

  ‘I can?’ I leap up from my squatted position and beam at my boss. Vanessa is tapping her chin with a manicured finger, her eyes narrowed to thoughtful slits.

  ‘Yes.’ Her lips spread out into a wide smile until her veneered teeth are displayed, hungry shark-like. ‘Yes, I think you may be the perfect solution, Becky.’

  ‘It’s, um, Rebecca.’ My response is mumbled – what the hell does it matter if she calls me Becky? She can call me Bogey-Face if she wants to (my flatmate certainly does, and finds it hilarious). Vanessa has just declared – with a witness – that I, Rebecca Riley, am the perfect solution to her problem. Not Sonia. Not any of the others on the team. Me.

  ‘Can you give us a minute to discuss the matter?’

  I assume Vanessa is dismissing me, and start to back away from her desk, careful not to step on any of the pens still littering the floor, but it’s actually Sonia she’s addressing. Sonia seems as shocked as I feel, her mouth slowly forming a large ‘O’ as she blinks at Vanessa.

  ‘Go on.’ Vanessa wafts her hand, almost shooing Sonia away from her perched position on the desk. ‘You need to prepare for the team meeting anyway.’ Vanessa flicks her wrist to check the time on her chunky watch. ‘Shoot. We’re already running late. Give me five minutes?’

  Sonia closes her gaping mouth and manages a grimace-like smile. It switches off immediately as she meets my eye. ‘Fine. I’ll make sure we’re ready to get started as soon as you’ve finished here.’

  ‘Thank you, Sonia.’ This time, Vanessa’s pleasantries are met with a corresponding smile. ‘What would I do without my right-hand woman?’

  Usually, I’d be silently seething at those vomit-inducing words, but right now I’m floating on a cloud of pure happiness. Because while Sonia is Vanessa’s right-hand woman, I am the perfect solution to her problem. I will solve whatever hiccup has sent Vanessa into a rage. I will be the hero that saves the day, and Vanessa will finally value my contribution to the company.

  Promotion, here we come.

  Chapter 3

  Vanessa pulls her shoulders back so she’s sitting straighter, the frown lines that were moments ago intersecting her forehead all but gone as she turns a mega-watt smile in my direction. She indicates the chair on the opposite side of her desk with an upturned hand as she reaches to align her mobile with the other.

  ‘Please sit, Becky. We have lots to discuss.’

  I do as I’m told, but only after I’ve scooped the scattered collection of pens from the floor and arranged them in their pot, setting it in its rightful place on the desk. I really can’t help myself, but I think Vanessa appreciates the act, even if she doesn’t voice it and merely watches me with an eyebrow cocked in bemusement.

  ‘So, how can I help?’ I’ve finally plonked myself in the seat and Vanessa is grinning at me again from across the desk. I’m not sure I like it. I’ve worked for Vanessa Whitely for three years and I’ve never seen her beam like this. So toothily. Like a crocodile about to snap up its dinner whole. I’m unnerved, but I’m trying not to show it. I want Vanessa to see me as an equal, or as close to an equal as possible while still being the boss. I want her to see me as she sees Sonia and the others, not as the trembling imbecile I feel inside right now.

  ‘Is it about the Heron Farm Festival? Because I’ve been working on some ideas …’ I’m sliding my file across the desk towards Vanessa but pause as she starts to shake her head. Her hair is still askew, but we’ve gone way beyond the point where I can point it out by now.

  ‘This isn’t strictly work-related.’ Vanessa thrusts her chin in the air and narrows her eyes ever so slightly. ‘But it is extremely important to me.’

  ‘What is it?’ I lean forward, my forearms resting on the desk in front of me. I can’t say I’m not disappointed that I haven’t been catapulted straight into the autumn festival’s plans, but I am intrigued.

  ‘I bought a little place last year, practically in the middle of nowhere. There isn’t a Waitrose for miles, which sounds hideous, I know, but also a bit romantic, don’t you think?’ Vanessa poses the question, but she doesn’t give me the chance to respond as she ploughs straight on. ‘I couldn’t live there full-time, obviously – can you imagine the commute?’ Her eyes widen momentarily, and she gives a little shake of her head. My eyes linger on her abused hairdo as a stray wisp wobbles on top of her head, and I have to drag my gaze away before I draw attention to it. ‘It’s more of a weekend getaway, a place I can escape to when I need to unwind. You know how it is.’

  Vanessa and I clearly live in different worlds, but I bob my head up and down in understanding, as though I, too, am in a position where I can waltz off to a second home to chill out for the weekend.

  ‘The house is a bit like my sister-in-law; absolutely stunning on the outside but a big ugly mess on the inside.’ Vanessa presses her lips together and her shoulders shake with a suppressed giggle. She clears her throat and she’s back to being professional Vanessa, the bitchiness locked back inside. ‘Anyway, like I was saying, the house is in need of some major TLC. I’ve been working on it for months. My project manager has been brilliant though.’ She heaves a massive sigh and leans on the desk, jelly-like. ‘Unfortunately, she was involved in that pile up on the M60 last night?’ Vanessa’s voice goes up at the end, turning her statement into a question. Her eyebrows rise too as she awaits a response.

  ‘Oh my God, is she
okay?’ Of course I’d heard about the accident – it was all over Granada Reports last night and splashed across the front of The Metro this morning. A haulage truck had ploughed into a car at rush hour, killing the driver and seriously injuring her two young children, and causing a major pile-up on the motorway. Three people had been airlifted to hospital, while several more had been transferred by ambulance.

  ‘She’s fine.’ Vanessa gives a wave of her hand and the knot that’s been tightening in my stomach starts to unwind. ‘Cuts and bruises, mostly, and a broken femur.’

  Vanessa says the last bit so matter-of-factly that I almost miss it. ‘A broken femur?’ My eyes are wide, my mouth wider. I’m shocked and horrified in equal measure. But it’s a sigh of irritation that hisses from Vanessa.

  ‘Yes, which means hospital and surgery and casts and all that.’ Vanessa sighs again and folds her arms across her chest. ‘Which is incredibly frustrating when we’re so close to finishing the house renovations.’

  The chasm that is now my mouth widens even further. Frustrating? What about the traumatic ordeal? The pain she must be in? None of that seems to be registering at all with my boss and I feel my blood start to boil as she witters on about schedules and timescales and catastrophic delays.

  ‘I’m throwing a housewarming party, you see, to showcase my beautiful new home.’ Vanessa reaches for her handbag, rifling inside before pulling out a cream card embossed with sparkling bronze writing. She slides it towards me, jabbing a finger on the date printed on the front. ‘That’s in one month’s time, when Nicole promised me the house would be ready.’

  How inconvenient. I’m sure Nicole is as furious with her broken promise as Vanessa is.

  I want to say this out loud, my tone so thick with sarcasm the words would almost get wedged in my mouth. But I don’t. I silently seethe while Vanessa spits venom about her ruined party plans.

  ‘And the invitations have already gone out to everybody I know!’ Vanessa snatches the invite back and shoves it into her handbag. My invitation must have been lost in the post, I suppose.

  ‘The thing is, I don’t have time to find another project manager to get the job finished by my tight deadline.’ Vanessa pushes herself out of her seat and strides towards the window. ‘Especially if I have to go on a waiting list.’ Vanessa shakes her head and the wayward strand of hair has a wobble. I fear she’s going to catch its reflection in the windowpane and demand to know why I haven’t warned her that she looks like she’s been on the receiving end of an electric shock.

  ‘You said I could help?’ I only give her the reminder so she’ll turn away from the window, but I soon wish I’d kept quiet when the crocodile smile makes a return.

  ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I?’ Vanessa strides away from the window and perches on the edge of her desk, looking down at me.

  ‘Do you want me to get in touch with everyone from your guest list and rearrange the party for a later date?’

  The answer to the question is clearly a big fat no as Vanessa’s mouth gapes open in outrage. She places a hand on her chest as she gives a humourless laugh. ‘I am an events manager, Becky. I can’t postpone my party – what kind of message is that sending out? If I can’t organise my own party, what hope is there for paying clients?’

  ‘These are extenuating circumstances. I’m sure if you explain the situation with the accident and …’ My words tail off as Vanessa leaps from the desk and marches back towards the window. She isn’t listening to me anyway.

  ‘Postponing isn’t an option. The party must go ahead, and it must be spectacular.’

  ‘You want me to plan your party?’ I’m almost breathless. Vanessa wants me to plan her party! This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me! Of all the event planners in this building, Vanessa has picked me to organise her housewarming celebration. This is it. My big chance to prove to Vanessa that I can be a creative asset to this company. No wonder Sonia was looking ticked off as she left the office. She must want to puke with envy.

  ‘No, sweetheart.’ Vanessa is giving me an odd look, as though I’ve just sprouted an extra head before her eyes, and she’s speaking to me rather slowly. ‘I want you to project manage the final stages of the house renovation.’

  Chapter 4

  I watch Vanessa carefully, the corners of my mouth twitching, eager to rise into a smile as soon as Vanessa bursts into the laughter I know she’s holding deep inside. Because I know she’s kidding. I’m a PA. I have a degree in events management. And I know squat about restoring houses, other than the occasional viewing of Homes Under The Hammer when I’m too hungover to reach for the remote. Let me tell you, I am no Lucy Alexander. I cannot see potential in knackered old buildings. I don’t care about original period pieces and I’m as likely to gush over Lee’s sweat-dampened socks left strewn across the bathroom floor as I am a ceiling rose.

  Vanessa’s good, I’ll give her that. Her poker face is amazing as she faces me with an unwavering facade, her features as still as a mask cast in plaster.

  ‘You’ll need to get in touch with the head builder – Victor, I think his name is. Or maybe Vance?’ Vanessa bites her lip, and I suspect this is the moment she is going to roar with laughter. She’s trying so hard to keep the amusement in, but it has to burst out at some point. Right? ‘I haven’t got round to filling him in about Nicole, so you’ll need to update him on the situation.’ She twists her wrist to glance at her watch. ‘I really must dash off, I’m afraid. I’m so late for this meeting. Victor’s details are in my contacts and I’ll arrange to have Nicole’s paperwork couriered over to you ASAP. You’ll just have to wing it until it arrives, I’m afraid, but at least the builders won’t slack off if you’re around to keep them in check.’

  She’s striding towards the door without a hint of delight at her little joke. I watch her reach for the handle, fully prepared for her to spin around and laugh at me.

  Except she doesn’t. She strides straight through the door without a backwards glance. When she fails to poke her head back round the door to perform her gotcha! moment, panic starts to bubble inside. She isn’t serious about me taking over the role of project manager, is she?

  I laugh to myself, but I don’t sound particularly joyful. I sound afraid and slightly manic.

  ‘Vanessa! Wait!’ Leaping from my seat, I tear off across the office, almost slipping on the polished floor in my stupid peep-toe boots. Yanking at the door handle, I’m relieved to see the back of Vanessa’s head, the strands of hair still sticking up, as she marches towards the meeting room. ‘Vanessa!’ I yelp as my foot slips again, but I keep going, grasping hold of a startled-looking Vanessa as I reach her. ‘I can’t do this. I’m not a project manager. I have no clue what to do.’ I spread my arms out wide. ‘No clue at all.’

  Vanessa’s foot starts to tap as she observes me, one eyebrow quirked unnaturally high on her forehead. I lower my arms slowly as she continues to scrutinise me, resting them by my side as Vanessa’s other eyebrow rises to join the first in its piqued position.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Vanessa’s voice is a low growl and I suddenly realise I’m desperate for a wee.

  ‘I, um … the thing is, Vanessa …’ I cross my legs as a sharp pain crosses my belly. ‘While I’m absolutely flattered that you think I’m capable of overseeing the refurbishment of your new house, I don’t think I’m up to the job.’

  Vanessa’s head tilts to one side and she rests a hand on her hip. ‘You don’t think you’re up to the job?’

  I give a rapid shake of my head as I concentrate really hard on not wetting myself outside the meeting room.

  ‘You’re not up to the job an untrained monkey with a clipboard could do?’

  I’m not sure what to say to that. If I answer no, I’m admitting that I’m less capable than an untrained monkey. But if I answer yes, that I am up to the job after all, then I’m landing myself with a new, albeit temporary, job description for the next few weeks.

  ‘Well?’ Vanessa�
�s foot is tapping again. I need to answer quickly, before she loses her temper for the second time this morning.

  ‘I guess I’m a fast learner?’ I wish my voice hadn’t come out sounding quite so weak, that it had been a strong statement of my abilities rather than a meek question.

  ‘Good.’ Vanessa gives a curt nod and I train my eyes on her mouth so I neither have to look into her searing eyes or watch the stray hairs wobble. ‘Because I wouldn’t want to have to find both a new project manager and a PA at such short notice.’ If I could bear to meet her gaze, I’m sure Vanessa would be piercing me with a warning look: refuse to take on this role at your peril.

  ‘So, we’re perfectly clear?’ The eyebrows are reaching for Vanessa’s hairline again. I feel I have no choice but to nod. ‘Fabulous. I’ll reimburse you for your petrol and other expenditures, obviously, but we’ll have to sort that out later as I’m extremely late for my meeting now.’ She gives a pointed look at the meeting room door, but I can’t let her go just yet.

  ‘I don’t drive, and I have no idea where this house is.’

  Vanessa heaves an enormous sigh at the inconvenience of these minor details. ‘Then you’ll have to catch the train or something. You’re more than welcome to stay at the house for the duration, if it’s easier than travelling back and forth. It’s completely weatherproof, though unfurnished, I’m afraid. There’s always the guesthouse, I suppose.’ She shrugs and takes a step closer to the meeting room. ‘My set of keys are in my handbag, and you’ll find the address of the house in my diary from when I went for a viewing, around the middle of January. It’s in Little Heaton.’ She reaches for the meeting room door, but I haven’t quite managed to iron out all the details.

  ‘What about my job here?’ I point towards my desk, which is portioned off outside Vanessa’s office. ‘How will you manage without me?’