Happily Ever After

by Harriet Evans

  When he finished, the only sound was that of the piece of paper, being folded up and put away again by Rory’s clumsy, shaking hands. He looked up and—Elle couldn’t quite see, but Sam swore later he did—shrugged his shoulders, sighing, and giving a small smile.

  “What does that mean, ‘redundancies’?” Loo Seat put her hand up, her voice carrying loudly in the quiet room. “How many?”

  “I don’t—know. Yet.” Rory shook his head. “Look, guys. This is a shock, I know. It’s been a shock to a lot of people. But the board agrees with me. We have to—um, look to the future.”

  Elle kept staring at him, hoping he’d glance her way, but he didn’t. The board agrees with me? What did he mean? What about Felicity?

  “Right. So, you’ve sold us down the river, Rory,” Floyd said calmly. “You’ve taken the money from the buyout and hung us out to dry. What does your mother make of it? Is that why she’s gone?”

  “Felicity agrees that this is for the best.” Rory stood on one foot, then the other. Elle stared at him. She nearly jumped out of her skin when, next to her, Sam stood up.

  “Excuse me?” she said politely. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but she doesn’t seem very pleased about it. I don’t understand why she’s not running the company anymore.”

  Elle wanted to hug her. “Look,” said a calm voice. “The legacy of Bluebird Books, it lives on. That is what is important.” The thin woman in gray had been so silent Elle had forgotten she was there; her voice was low, with a slight French accent. They all listened, mesmerized.

  Rory flapped his right hand at her. “Guys, this is Celine Bertrand,” he said. “Sorry, I should have introduced her before. She’s the MD of Bookprint UK.”

  Celine nodded, watching them all, her slim hands clasped together.

  “I look forward to getting to know you all. For some, it will be sad circumstances, others happy. But I promise Rory has acted in the best interests of the company, in persuading the board to accept our offer.” She turned to him coolly. He smiled at her. Elle stared at him, in his smart gray suit and short hair, flushed with excitement, like a little boy with a new toy. She bit her lip, hard; she barely recognized this Rory. Then she realized, as she tasted blood, that she did. Of course she did. She’d pushed this version out of her mind, only seen the one she wanted to see. But this Rory had been there all along. He was there in front of her now.

  Back at her desk, Elle looked around the office. Everyone was in shock; Loo Seat was comforting someone in publicity, who was sobbing quietly in her arms. She saw Carl from IT’s head, above the wall dividers. He was saying to Floyd, “What am I going to do? My wife’s ill, she won’t be back at work for a year even if she gets better, and there’s no way they’ll keep me on. We’re fucked.”

  And Floyd, calm, practical: “It won’t be like that, mate. And the package is good. I’ve seen it. Promise.”

  Elspeth was in tears, Posy patting her on the back. “They—I’ve been here thirty years,” she was saying. “What will I do now? I don’t know how to do anything else.”

  “We don’t know who it’ll be,” Posy said, her face gray. “You mustn’t worry just yet, Elspeth, dear. Rory wouldn’t let us—”

  “Wouldn’t let us starve on the streets?” Elspeth said, her tone vicious. “If he can stab his own mother in the back I should think he’s capable of anything, wouldn’t you?”

  Posy said sadly, “Yes, maybe he is.” Her face was haggard; she looked much older, all of a sudden. “I thought I knew him. Funny, isn’t it.”

  Elle’s phone rang, as she was watching this. She jumped. “Can you pop into my office?” Rory’s voice said, tersely.

  Elle gathered her notebook—she didn’t know why—and crossed the floor, shutting the door behind her. Her heart seemed to be thumping loudly in her throat.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Sit down.” Rory rubbed his eyes, and then looked up at her. “Hey.” He touched her hand; she looked down. “So—” he said. “This is it, then.”

  “Yes?” Elle asked, not sure what he meant. Her tired mind seemed to be scrambling the information it received.

  “I wanted to make sure you were OK. And I wanted to tell you I’ve sorted it with Celine. You’re OK. Your job’s safe.”

  Elle stared at him. She didn’t know what to say. “Um—” she said eventually. “Thanks a lot.”

  Someone was shouting outside on the floor. “Pub! Come on. Pub!” There came the clattering of bags and coats being gathered. Elle and Rory sat in silence, in his office, listening, their knees almost touching.

  “Where’s your mother?”

  Rory shrugged. “In her office. I think she’ll probably go soon. It’s for the best.”

  “But—she’s Publisher-at-Large, still,” Elle said, and hearing herself she realized how naive she sounded.

  “That doesn’t really mean that much,” Rory said quietly. “That’s what you give people when—well. She knows it. We all know it.”

  “Rory—how could you do that to her? How could you betray her like that?”

  His eyes flashed. “I’ve done her a favor, Elle. You have no idea what you’re talking about. We had to change, or else we’d fail. She was a brilliant woman in her day, but the truth is she’s past it.” Rory drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk, watching her as if he expected her to agree, reassure him he was right. She couldn’t speak. “This way, she and I have made a tidy profit from the sale, she can retire, and Bluebird can start moving into the twenty-first century.”

  “You keep talking about the twenty-first century,” Elle said tiredly. “But our bestselling books, the ones that actually make the money, are all about people living in the past.”

  Rory looked as if he didn’t quite understand her. “Elle, this is business,” he said blankly.

  Elle tried not to shout. “It’s people too,” she hissed. “It’s your mother, it’s your friends, your colleagues, it’s me!”

  “I told you,” Rory said. “You’re OK! Promise.”

  She stood up. “You really don’t get it, do you? Rory, I don’t want a job because I’m screwing you.”

  “You’ve got one anyway.” Rory’s voice was cold. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “Shut up,” he interrupted impatiently, leaning forward. “I’ve said I need transitional people who know the list. It had to be someone, so why not you? You’ll be fine there, I know you will.”

  “Don’t you understand?” Elle’s hands fell limply to her sides. “Carl’s wife’s ill, Elspeth’s never going to get another job, Angelica sends money home to her mum every month. They’re people. And they’re good at their jobs. You’re making a mistake, you can’t just wipe out a company like this. It’s not about me.” Her voice was pleading, she was desperate for him to see, to understand. “I’m not your—”

  She was going to say, I’m not your little bit on the side. But that was exactly what she was, she saw it for the first time.

  Rory was watching her, expectantly. “Look,” he said. “Celine is absolutely wonderful. I’ve got to know her these past few weeks. She’ll see us through this, and it’ll be great.” He sat up straight in his chair. “When it’s over, we’ll look back and say, ‘Yup, right thing to do.’” He tugged at his tie. “Right thing to do. Elby?” He gave her a small smile. “By the time Christmas is here, you’ll have got used to it. I told you to trust me. Like I say, it’s business.”

  Trust me. She didn’t know what else to say, so she turned around and left, not caring, for the first time since she’d known him, whether he watched her go or not.

  THE DAY BEFORE the supposed “Christmas Party,” Elle got home late, weary and annoyed after Christmas shopping. She let herself in to find Sam sitting at the kitchen table, tearing a paper napkin into shreds. She was singing “Good King Wenceslas” to herself.

  “You all right, Sam?” Elle dropped her bags onto the lino and shrugged off her coa
t, grateful for the warmth of the small kitchen.

  “Yeah. No, not really. Been made redundant. Got told just now,” said Sam.

  Elle sat down at the table, her mouth open in shock. “No. Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, Sam. I’m sorry.”

  Sam didn’t look at her. “Yeah. It’s a pain. I thought it was all done by now.”

  The past two weeks had been brutal. It became clear over the days that followed the announcement that everything had been planned in exquisite detail; one by one, most of the company fell. There were fifty people in the London office. Thirty of them were to lose their jobs. Carl, Elspeth, Helena, Angelica. All of publicity, including Loo Seat, had already gone. Sandy the post-room lady had left the afternoon they told her. Floyd and most of the sales team were made redundant. Even Posy, she’d heard last week. There would be no one left, beyond her and a few others, and no one knew the full extent of what Posy and Elspeth did. It was mad.

  Elle swallowed. “I thought they’d done them all. I thought you’d be OK.”

  “I’m the last person they told.” Sam smiled. “Nice, eh.”

  Elle didn’t know what to say. She reached out and took Sam’s hand. “Bastards. What do you get?”

  “Six months’ pay,” Sam said. “Not bad. I’ll be OK for a while. I might see what Steve wants to do. You know?”

  “That’s a good idea. Or you could take some time, think about if you want to try another career?” Elle hated the jaunty tone in her voice.

  Sam wasn’t really listening. She carried on gazing at the kitchen wall. “It’s just—I don’t want to leave. I liked it. I liked what we were. Jeremy wants to take me with him, he said so. He’s going to need someone, but they won’t budge. All those campaigns I’ve sorted for March and stuff. He won’t know where anything is. He’ll screw it up.”

  Elle winced. “You’re the one who runs that department. He’s only got a job because he’s a mate of Rory’s. Everyone knows that.”

  “Could you have a word with Rory?” Sam said, getting up. “Tell him I should stay.”

  Elle scratched her head. “I don’t think he listens to me, Sam, but I’ll have a go. He’s stupid.”

  Sam carried on talking. “I’ll probably have to find somewhere else, or stay with Steve.” She cleared her throat. “So I guess you’ll be moving in with Rory then, will you?”

  She looked at Elle. An ambulance blared outside, as the two girls stared at each other.

  “Won’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” said Elle, mock-jokily, sticking her elbows out, as though she were an old-school comedian.

  “Elle, come on,” Sam said. She pulled her top lip down over her teeth.

  “How do you know?” Elle said quietly.

  “I’m not stupid, Elle. I’ve lived with you for three years. I know we’re not as close as you are to Libby, but yeah. I’m not stupid.”

  Elle’s throat was dry. “Sam—” She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. “Sam—I’m sorry. I should have told you. No one knows, not Libby, no one. Then all this happened—the takeover—”

  “You’re going to Bookprint, aren’t you.”

  “Yeah,” Elle said. “I think I am.”

  “Thought so.” Sam nodded. “I don’t blame you, Elle. Honestly, I don’t.”

  Elle could feel a sob rising in her chest. “You should.”

  “It’s OK, though. You love him. I’ve always known it, from the way you look at him. And he loves you.” Sam rubbed her nose. “I’m happy for you. It’s weird but I am.”

  Now that she could finally talk about it to someone, there was nothing Elle could say. She turned away. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

  “Why? Don’t be. I’ll be OK, honest. We’ll look back in a few years’ time and laugh,” said Sam philosophically. “We’ll always be friends, won’t we? Anyway, everyone always knew Rory wanted to run the company.”

  “And that’s fine except the way he’s gone about it.” Elle stared at the wall again. “I just don’t understand it. I don’t know who he is… I do but I can’t… I can’t…” she whispered. “I don’t think I can be with him anymore.”

  “Serious?” Sam pulled herself up so she was sitting on the counter. She opened a tin and shoved two biscuits into her mouth. She looked wiped out and Elle saw then that her eyes were bloodshot. In over three years of living with her, apart from Princess Di’s funeral, she’d never seen Sam cry.

  She kicked at the kitchen unit. “I want to be able to look at him and say, ‘I’m proud to be with you, I love you, you’re a good person.’ I can’t do that with him. Ever—ever again.” She’d never said that out loud before, she’d never realized it before.

  She got up, went to the fridge, and pulled out some sausages. “I’ll make you supper. Do you want supper?” she added, wondering if Sam was hungry. She wasn’t sure she could eat.

  To her surprise Sam said happily, “Yes, please. Toad in the hole?”

  “Sure,” said Elle.

  “Can’t remember the last time we ate together,” Sam said. She started singing “Deck the halls with boughs of holly…” “I’ll go down and get some wine.” She picked up her purse. “It’ll be like our Christmas meal.” She turned back to Elle. “Honestly, I’m happy for you, if you’re happy.”

  Elle shrugged her shoulders. “Thanks, Sam,” she said. She grabbed her hand and stared at her, there in the warm kitchen, where they’d made probably thousands of cups of tea, chatted for hours, spent more time together than Elle had with most people in her life, and now it was ending. “Thanks for everything.”

  “No worries,” Sam replied, and went out, whistling, leaving Elle alone.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, Friday 22 December, Elle and Sam journeyed in together, with heavy hearts and heavy heads, due to the amount of red wine they’d drunk the night before. Sam had come back with a mulling mixture from the dodgy off-license and they’d sung carols and Sam had said she thought it was the most amazing evening she’d had in ages, which Elle thought was bizarre from someone who’d been made redundant that very day.

  They were greeted with the news that the period of due diligence was over and the sale was complete. At one o’clock Floyd turned off his computer, stood up, and shouted, “I’m out of here. I’m going to the pub for the last time. First drink’s on me.” He looked towards Rory’s shut door; as ever, Rory was closeted with Celine. “Bye, Rory,” he shouted. “It’s been great. Good luck running the place. You’ll need it, mate.”

  He slung his backpack over one shoulder, and strode out.

  In five minutes, the office was virtually empty and Rory, Celine, and Elle were the only ones left on their floor. When Celine finally left, Elle put the last of her things in the removal box she’d been assigned and closed the lid. She turned off her computer and picked up her bag, then walked over to Rory’s office, her legs shaking. She felt like a little girl, or like the girl who’d walked up those steps that day in May, so long ago, in her brand-new pink Oasis jumper, so proud and apprehensive and excited.

  She knocked on the door.

  “I’m off to the pub now,” she said.

  Rory looked up and, when he saw it was her, pushed some papers on his desk away. “Elle, ah,” he said. “I’ll walk out with you.”

  Elle shrugged; she could hardly refuse. Rory picked up his coat and they walked through the abandoned office together.

  It was freezing in the square, too cold to snow as Granny Bee used to say. A heavy fog hung over the park, it seemed to creep into Elle’s bones. She shivered. Suddenly she thought, she didn’t know why, of the day she’d thrown coffee over Felicity, and how Rory had said, “Don’t take on so,” just like Granny Bee. It was so long ago. She looked up at the building and realized then she wouldn’t go back inside again. Ever.

  “Look, Rory,” she said. “I just wanted to say, things are obviously weird between us at the moment, and that’s fine, I know you’ve had a lot to… juggle.” She didn’t know the right word to use.
“It’s just, I’ve thought about it a lot, and I don’t want to go to Bookprint. I want you to give Sam a job instead. You need her much more than me.” She nodded. “Trust me, I’m not being noble, you really do.”

  “This again?” Rory stamped his feet on the ground, to keep warm. “Look, Elle—we made our decisions for commercial reasons. I’m not giving Sam a job. She’s a marketing assistant, they’re ten a penny. You, however—” He put his hand under her chin. “You’re unique. And I wish you’d understand that. This isn’t a charity I’m running. It’s a business.” She stood still, not blinking, and just looked into his green eyes. He stepped forward. “Christ, Elle, this is a hard time for me too, you know—I’ve got Celine on the phone fifteen times a day, I’ve got Mum crying to every dinosaur agent in town and spreading rumors about me behind my back. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Can’t you just, please, cut me some slack?”

  She put her hands on his chest, not caring if anyone saw. She could feel the warmth of him under his coat. “But Rory, that’s the trouble—I agree. I don’t think you know what the fuck you’re doing either.” She swallowed, and stared at him.

  Say it, the voice in her head was shouting. Say it.

  Don’t, another voice said. Don’t say it, Elle, you’ll regret it forever.

  “Aaaah…” Elle said, knowing she was going to speak, that she couldn’t stop herself, and she didn’t know where it was coming from, and part of her desperately wanted her to stay silent. “Oh, God. Listen, Rory. I think it’s over.”

  “What?” he said sharply.

  Elle inhaled deeply, the icy air stinging her lungs. “I don’t know you, that’s the trouble.” She shivered. “I thought I did.”

  “You do,” he said, staring at her in disbelief. “I know all this is a shock but I couldn’t tell you, it wouldn’t have been fair to you. But it’s all over—”

  “God, Rory, I’m not doing this because you didn’t tell me. I’m doing this because—because…” Elle trailed off.

  He saw an opening, and he said, quickly, “Try me.” His voice was hoarse. “Elle, come on, don’t do this. I’d do anything for you, darling, you know I would.”