‘Adam thinks I should take some time out. Just until Noah goes to school. What with childcare costs being so high, he thinks I may as well spend the time with the boys while they’re young. And it’s not as if we can’t afford to live on his wage.’
‘And what do you think?’ Karen probed gently. Eleanor let out another sigh.
‘I think I don’t want to be a middle-class arsehole moaning about having the chance to actually bring up my own children when there are a ton of women who don’t have any choice but to go back to work who would kill to be in my position.’
‘Okaaaay,’ Bea replied, digging her fork into the carrot cake left over on Karen’s plate. ‘But what do you think when your friends don’t care that you’re a middle-class arsehole?’
‘I think I’ll go crazy if I don’t do something that makes me feel like me again. I’m too selfish to devote my every waking moment to being someone’s mummy or someone’s wife.’
‘You could set up your own business,’ Karen suggested. ‘Then you get to be mummy and super-businesswoman. Noah could go to nursery a couple of mornings a week – he’d benefit from the interaction with other babies, and you could network. I have some contacts I could put you in touch with; I know a lot of mums who have done the same thing.’
Eleanor looked as though she was rolling the idea over in her mind, poking at it to find the holes.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, but underneath the words Bea could see there was a spark of interest that she hadn’t seen in Eleanor since she’d taken maternity leave from her advertising job. ‘I mean, at Fresh I had a pretty stable client base. This would mean starting from scratch. It would be a lot of work … I’ll think about it. Beats going back to my old job and having to pump my boobs in the disabled loos.’
‘I thought you’d practically stopped breastfeeding?’
‘I practically have, but the bastards – sorry, Karen – won’t stop filling up. I wake up in a puddle of milk every morning.’
Bea screwed up her face. ‘Ew.’
‘Oh Bea, one day … when you have kids …’
Bea pretended to shudder. ‘Jesus, I can’t have kids. For one thing, I have a cream sofa.’
Eleanor laughed. ‘You will. You know you will. I knew this woman who—’
‘Seriously, Eleanor,’ Bea cut in. ‘If you tell me one more time about Moira at work who had her first child at forty-two, I’m going to throw up.’
A hurt look briefly crossed Eleanor’s face, then she broke into a grin. ‘Well she did! So it’s never too late.’
‘Absolutely. In fact I think I’ll start right away. The very next bloke I sleep with, I’ll give him a questionnaire about his family history first. You know, those ones you get at the doctor’s. “Excuse me, sir, before you take off those boxers, would you mind telling me if anyone in your family has a history of heart disease? No? Fantastic! Now, when you’re ready, if you could just stick your willy in this tube for me.”’ She mimed twirling a test tube between her fingers.
‘Vulgar, Bea.’ Karen shook her head. ‘Speaking of which, how are things on the romance front?’
‘Bill!’ Bea shouted, turning in faux desperation to the waitress. ‘Can we get the bill, please?’
As the only singleton of the three of them, Bea was obliged to keep the others stocked up with graphic tales of her love life, her friends greedily feasting on her every word, reliving their dating days through her. What they didn’t know, would never know, was that it was all bravado, lies and posturing for their sake, so that they didn’t worry about her. Bea hadn’t been with anyone in years, and her few token dates had been to keep Karen off her back. They had never been given a real chance.
As they were waiting for the bemused waitress to bring the bill over, Karen turned to her.
‘Look, I know this guy from the work crowd. He’s single …’
Bea groaned theatrically. ‘Please, Karen, no more blind dates! I love you, but the blokes you’ve found for me in the past are … Well let’s just say I’ve not managed to find my Prince Charming amongst them.’
Karen smiled. ‘I know, Chris was a bit of a wet blanket, and Sean …’
‘Was an utter cockblanket,’ Bea finished for her. ‘Seriously, Karen, how these men made it as psychiatrists when they have so many Freudian frigging issues themselves, I do not know.’
‘This one’s not like that,’ Karen protested. ‘He’s not even a psychiatrist. He works in IT.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake – like that’s better!’
Eleanor laughed. ‘Don’t be so fussy, Bea. At least if he’s rubbish in bed you might get your twenty-year-old laptop upgraded.’
‘Bitch.’ Bea grinned at Karen. ‘Fine, give him my number. He’d better not be another Sean, though.’
‘I promise. But it’s no wonder you can’t find a decent man, with language like yours. You could at least try and sound like a lady.’
‘False advertising.’ Bea pointed at Eleanor. ‘Isn’t that illegal, Els?’
The waitress arrived with the bill, and Karen handed over her card, as always. Bea shot a frustrated look at Eleanor, who shook her head almost imperceptibly. They had both tried to pay countless times, but in the end it was easier just to let her get the tab.
‘I’ve got to shoot off back to work,’ Karen said. ‘I have a patient this afternoon and I need to leave straight after the session. Michael’s away this weekend; I want to say goodbye before he goes.’
‘Somewhere nice?’
Karen pulled a face. ‘Doncaster, I think. Love you both.’
She took her card back from the waitress, and the others both hugged her goodbye.
‘I’d better go too.’ Eleanor pretended to glance at her watch, but Bea knew she was desperate to get back to her son. ‘Good luck with work, call me if you need to talk it through.’
Bea grimaced. ‘Thanks, hun, I will. Love to Tweedledum and Tweedledee.’
Eleanor grinned. ‘I’ll tell Toby and Noah their old fogey Auntie Bea said hi. They won’t have any idea who Tweedledum and Tweedledee are.’
‘What are they teaching kids in schools these days? Wink.’
‘You know one of these days you’ll actually learn to wink. And learn to be funny.’
‘All right, cow. Still okay to pop those passport forms round after the gym later?’
‘Not bedtime, Bea; you always turn up at bedtime and Tobes goes wild.’
‘Not bedtime, I promise.’
4
Karen
The tension around the table was palpable, but not because they were worried about what they were about to be told – bad news was never delivered in a team environment; that wasn’t the way things were done round here. Instead it was communicated behind closed doors, as quietly as possible: no fuss, no mess. No, the rest of the junior psychiatrists, six in all including Karen, were all looking anxious for the same reason her own leg was jiggling impatiently and she’d glanced at the door constantly since they’d been gathered in the large conference room.
It was Friday, and everyone had been hoping to slope off early to start their weekend. Michael was leaving tonight and she’d been desperate to get back and see him before he set off. She always treated weekends as though he might never come back; in fact every time she said goodbye to anyone she loved she treated it as though it would be the last time. If she didn’t see him, she’d spend the weekend obsessing about him being in some kind of accident and worrying that the last words she’d ever said to him were ‘Oh, can you stick the bin out before nine?’
After what felt like an eternity, the door to the conference room opened and two of the senior partners, Robert and Jonathan, walked in, both completely oblivious to the fact that it was the end of the week and their staff looked like a group of sulky teens in detention.
‘Thanks for coming, everyone.’ Jonathan looked round the table and his gaze fell on Karen, already in her coat. ‘Are we keeping you, Karen?’
Embarrassment at be
ing singled out warmed her cheeks, but she wasn’t about to be shamed. She’d always got the impression Jonathan didn’t particularly like her; he was a misogynistic bastard and his deprecating comments were always aimed at her or the only other female junior.
‘Nothing that can’t wait until after we’re done,’ she replied, meeting his eyes. She suspected that Jonathan had always secretly hoped she’d get pregnant, a baby instantly flipping the switch in her brain from career woman to mum. As it stood, she was a hundred times more committed than her male counterparts, and there was no way any of them could dispute that, or question her drive. What poor Jonathan didn’t know was that Karen wouldn’t ever have children. She’d been so tempted on occasion to tell him, to destroy his dream of her slipping off into a people carrier and an apron, but to tell him would mean having to tell him why, and she couldn’t do that.
Robert, sensing the tension between them, cleared his throat. ‘Right then, we won’t keep you long. The reason we’ve got you all here is because, as you know, Ken Williams is retiring this summer.’
‘As you know’ was an understatement; the knowledge of Ken’s retirement had sat in each and every one of their offices since he’d announced his plans two months ago. It had watched them during their sessions and whispered to them as they filed their paperwork. Notes had become more comprehensive, referrals had flowed like champagne in the Playboy Mansion. Ken’s departure would leave a hole in the top-floor infrastructure that each one of them was desperate to plug.
Karen already knew who it was going to be, and it really was a case of plugging the hole full of dung. And from the expression on his face at the table, it looked as though he knew it too. Travis Yapp was the embodiment of every cuss word Bea had ever uttered. What was the word for someone who wore too much gel for a man of his age and still referred to his car as a female? She made a mental note to ask Bea later.
Karen knew that Robert didn’t like Travis, but she also knew that Travis had impressed the right people, said and done everything that was expected of him. Karen didn’t like the implication that she hadn’t. She knew she wasn’t always as diplomatic as she could be; she wasn’t the yes man she was expected to be, but she’d always hoped that when it came to the crunch, Robert would stick his neck out for her. It wasn’t enough, he’d told her, and then added, as if sealing her fate as a junior psychiatrist for the rest of her life, ‘You wouldn’t be happy on the top floor anyway: too much politics, not enough hands-on work. You’d suffocate.’ Travis, he’d said, was exactly the kind of political schmuck they wanted upstairs. What does that make you? she’d wanted to ask, but he was still her boss, and anyhow, she hadn’t wanted him to know how much it pained her not to get the job.
Jonathan was now doing the talking – some long-drawn-out speech about the years of experience Ken would be taking with him, and how much he’d learned from his colleague. Karen must have been frowning in anticipation of Travis’s coronation, because Robert was looking at her now, mouthing, ‘You okay?’
She flicked her eyes down to her lap, ignoring his concern – childish, she knew, but this whole charade was causing anxiety and irritation to flare up inside her. She might have to sit there and congratulate Yapp, smile and say he was the best man for the job, but she didn’t have to make Robert feel better about what a coward he’d been. She hadn’t really believed in the whole glass-ceiling thing when she was at university, but the doubt she’d held so strongly about its existence was beginning to wane.
‘… and that’s why we’re very excited to invite Karen to join us as a member of the senior consulting team. What do you say, Karen?’
Karen shook her head slightly, convinced she’d misheard. ‘Sorry, what?’
Robert laughed, saving her embarrassment, as the rest of the team gauged each other’s reactions. Clearly they’d all been expecting this to be Travis’s coronation too.
‘Well, shock and disbelief is as good a reaction as any, I suppose.’ Robert grinned. ‘I’m sure you’ll all join me in congratulating Karen – assuming of course that she wants the position?’
Karen composed herself, smiled and nodded graciously. ‘Of course, I’m thrilled and honoured. Thank you both for the opportunity. I hope I live up to your expectations.’
Her colleagues all recovered as quickly as she did, none more so than Travis Yapp, who plastered a white-toothed poster-boy grin to his face and held up an invisible glass in toast. ‘Congratulations, Karen – it must be great to see all your hard work paying off.’
‘Congratulations, Karen – it must be great to see all your hard work paying off,’ Karen mimicked in a childish voice. ‘What a … a …’ She searched for a suitable word and remembered Bea’s creative command of the English language from just a couple of hours before. ‘What a cockblanket.’
Robert let out a laugh so spontaneous and genuine that Karen couldn’t help smiling through her fury.
‘I don’t know what you’re laughing at,’ she chided, her anger dissipating. ‘You realise he was insinuating that I’ve been sleeping with you to get a promotion?’
‘It’s standard Misogyny 101 – if a man gets a promotion it’s because he worked for it; if a woman gets one it’s because she slept with someone for it. They teach it on the first day of the “Aren’t You Glad You Have a Penis” course.’
‘Hmm, quite the feminist, aren’t we?’ Karen checked her watch. ‘I really have to get home. I just wanted to catch you to say thank you for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.’
‘I know you won’t.’ Robert smiled. ‘Welcome to the career of your dreams, Dr Browning.’
Karen descended the steps of the Cecil Baxter building, her mind reeling. Partner. Everything she’d worked for, everything she wanted was within her grasp now. She might not have the family she’d hoped for as a child but at least she had her career – finally she felt her choices were going to be vindicated.
As she made her way to her car she looked both ways down the street before she crossed but what she saw made her stop sharply at the side of the road. To her right, no more than a hundred yards away, was a silver Fiat parked up as though its occupant was waiting for someone. And sat behind the wheel, waiting, watching her walk from the building despite it being hours since their session that morning, was her newest patient, Jessica Hamilton.
5
Karen
‘Yes!’ She had been fumbling for her keys for the last five minutes, and as her fingers closed around them and she pulled them out of her bag, a crumpled piece of white paper followed them and landed on the doorstep. Grabbing it off the ground, she let herself in and threw her bag into the porch.
‘Hello? Michael?’ She resisted the urge to shout, ‘Honey, I’m home!’ and anyway, it would have fallen on deaf ears – Michael wasn’t here. Although the house was hers – well, the bank’s – he had his own key and treated the place as his own when he was there in the week. They weren’t like any of the other couples Karen knew, constantly checking in with each other, and although she found it hard at times, it worked for them. Mostly. She hated having to keep the nature of their relationship a secret, but telling those around her where Michael really went on his weekends ‘at work’ simply wasn’t an option.
She wandered through to the living room, smoothing out the piece of paper as she walked. A cheerful-looking yellow logo was emblazoned across the top; her old school and the one Toby attended now. The words ‘Keeping in Touch’ were written under the logo in large print. It was some kind of newsletter detailing the children’s achievements of the term so far. Karen shoved it on to the TV cabinet without reading the rest.
She was used to the still silence that came with too much time home alone, but today it unsettled her, and she switched the TV on to fill the void where a bustling after-school routine might have been. It flickered into life and she left it on the channel it was already tuned to, ignoring the predictable fodder of the retired and unemployed that came on and heading upstairs to fix her make-up be
fore Michael arrived. She wanted his mental picture of her to be a good one, to last him the few days he’d be away. In the couple of years they’d been together, they had made sure never to let themselves go, become comfortable in the way they might have done had things been different. Their time together was always cherished, knowing that he might have to leave at any minute if a family emergency arose.
As she refreshed her lipstick and mascara and applied more blusher to her cheekbones, she thought of poor exhausted Eleanor and the way she never had a second to spend on herself any more, and of Bea and the fact that all she had was time. And her job, which didn’t exactly seem to be going swimmingly at the moment. She should offer to do more for both of them, she decided: take the boys off Eleanor’s hands for the day so she could get some well-deserved rest, spend some more time with Bea and try and find her someone who made her happy. Not that that had exactly gone well last time she’d tried – a fact Bea didn’t hesitate to remind her of. In retrospect it had probably been a silly idea to set her friend up with someone she worked with, though Bea could have shown a bit more gratitude and at least waited until Sean had left before calling him a total wanker under her breath.
The fact was, Karen only ever wanted the best for her friends.
When her face began to feel heavy from the make-up she would remove in a few hours’ time, she flicked the screen of her phone, dreading a message telling her that Michael had had to leave while she was still at work. There was nothing, just a couple of emails that could wait until later, and a text from Bea.
E looking harassed. Do all mums look like that? Thank God we r happily sprogless!!! Xx
Karen smiled at Bea’s way of telling her she was worried about Eleanor while trying not to look interfering. She fired off two text messages, one replying to Bea – Sure she’s fine but texting her now. Maybe we should offer to take boys this wkend? – and one to Eleanor: Love our lunches. Miss u as always. Anything I can do to help with the little men? Xx
Before I Let You In Page 3
