29 Seconds

by TM Logan

  Sarah felt like saying Yes, I do know. But instead she stayed silent and hated herself for it. Her cheeks felt hot.

  ‘You heard her,’ Lovelock said. ‘She doesn’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You’re a liar and a predator and a serial abuser!’ she spat back at him. ‘I know it, most of the people at this party know it. Even the dean of the faculty has known it for years.’

  ‘That’s simply not true, Gilly.’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you just ask him, if you’re so convinced?’

  ‘Ask who?’

  ‘The dean.’ Lovelock gestured towards the house. ‘He’s here. In the kitchen. I don’t think he’d have come to my annual party for the last ten years if he thought I was some sort of bad egg. Ask him what he thinks of you coming here and throwing wild slanders and accusations at a member of his senior team.’

  Charlie Webber-Smythe, one of Lovelock’s young acolytes from the department, emerged from the crowd of party guests.

  ‘Alan, you should probably know that some woman tried to talk her way in at the front door just now –’

  ‘Yes. I know.’ He gestured to the woman. ‘She came through the side gate instead. Caroline must have left it unlocked again. But she was just about to leave, weren’t you, Gilly?’

  ‘Screw you! You can’t tell me what to do anymore. I’m not finished yet.’

  ‘I think you are.’

  She made a lunge for him but Webber-Smythe grabbed one of her arms, holding her away from Lovelock.

  ‘Get off me!’

  Webber-Smythe was much bigger and stronger than her, but she had fury on her side. She wriggled free and made another lunge for Lovelock, swatting for his face. Lovelock merely sat back on the stone bench and watched, a look of mild amusement on his face. Webber-Smythe tried to grab the woman’s other arm but caught her handbag instead, the strap breaking away and the bag tumbling to the floor. The zip was open and some of its contents fell onto the patio – purse, lipstick, mobile, pens, papers, diary and everything else tumbling out and scattering across the stone tiles. Marie crouched down and began gathering it all up.

  Webber-Smythe got a firm grip on the woman’s arm, and with another party guest on her other side, they marched her off towards the side gate.

  Her shouts of anger receded as she was led away.

  9

  ‘These are yours,’ Marie said, holding out the woman’s things.

  She looked up, tears streaking her face.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re Gillian Arnold, aren’t you? I know you from LinkedIn.’

  The woman nodded, tucking her belongings back into her handbag.

  ‘Hey,’ Sarah said, catching up to them. ‘What you did back there . . . it was really brave.’

  Gillian sat on a low stone wall at the end of the drive, swaying slightly. She spoke without looking at Sarah.

  ‘For all the good it will do me.’ She zipped her handbag and clutched it in her lap. ‘Anyway, what do you know about being brave? You knew exactly what I was talking about back there. I saw it in your eyes.’

  Sarah looked at the ground.

  ‘I’m sorry. I just . . . just couldn’t say it in front of all those people.’

  ‘Good luck with that.’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Staying quiet. I tried it too, until I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror anymore.’

  A tear rolled down Gillian’s cheek and she brushed it away, angrily. She looked defeated. Broken.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to have a go at you. It’s just that I’m so angry all the time now; I have so much anger I don’t know what to do with it. Every day I think about what he did to me, every single day. The nights are the worst: he’s always there, in my head.’ She paused, staring straight ahead. ‘For a long time I thought about killing him.’

  Sarah hesitated, not sure how to ask the next question.

  ‘How long did he do it for?’ she said quietly.

  ‘Does it make any difference? A day, a month, a year, does it matter? It’s what he does, it’s who he is. He’ll never change. Neither will the university – not until they have to.’

  ‘He’s been targeting me since soon after I joined, about two years ago.’

  ‘Well, you’ve lasted longer than me. I only made nineteen months.’

  ‘What happened?’ Marie said.

  Gillian shrugged.

  ‘What happened is that it’s a business and they’ve got too much invested in their prime asset to let him go. People like us are just the collateral damage.’

  Sarah sat down next to her on the low stone wall and passed her a tissue from her handbag. She saw now that, beneath the anger, Gillian had a kind, open face. Beyond the lines of worry and stress there was a genuine warmth and intelligence.

  ‘People like us?’

  ‘Anyone who threatens to expose him for what he really is. I thought I’d get a fair hearing – I didn’t realise until it was too late that the university’s number one interest was to protect itself. It’s one hundred per cent about their brand. Colleagues told me in private that if I spoke up, the attack dogs would come after me. But I didn’t listen.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘I thought I knew better.’

  ‘Did you have evidence that you could give them?’

  ‘I used to write transcripts, from memory. Details of the things he said and did – or tried to do – during our one-to-one sessions, at conferences away from the university, at social events when he cornered me. After six months, when I thought I had enough evidence, I went to the dean.’

  ‘So you had him bang to rights.’

  Gillian shook her head, slowly.

  ‘No. What you have to realise is that when the dean does an investigation like this, he’s not on your side. You think he is, but he’s not. His role is to neutralise the threat. He told me to think of the consequences for my career, suggested I was partly to blame anyway, but that he’d talk to Lovelock and get him to back off.’

  ‘He persuaded you not to take it further.’

  ‘For a few months.’ Her voice caught with the anger. ‘But it was such bullshit. Lovelock just carried on exactly as before, until finally I’d had enough and went ahead with a formal complaint to HR.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Gillian snorted.

  ‘What do you think happened? Absolutely fuck all. The university went into cover-up mode, there were lots of highly confidential meetings and letters and forms to fill in, policies to follow, arbitration meetings. Lots of arse-covering by every manager involved. Then Lovelock made a counterclaim and it all went completely to shit. He basically accused me of all the things I was accusing him of, to muddy the waters, and privately made it clear that my career in the field was over unless I took the voluntary severance package on offer and signed an NDA.’

  ‘NDA?’

  ‘Non-disclosure agreement. A couple of months’ extra salary in exchange for keeping my mouth shut. By that time I was a wreck. I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t eating, it had been going on for months and I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do. I was even getting abusive texts and emails from Caroline, his wife. Can you believe that? Like it was all my fault for trying to steal her husband away. I was massively behind with my work by this point and I was barely functioning. So in the end I signed the agreement.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Gillian.’

  The woman focused on Sarah, her eyes bloodshot.

  ‘You should get out while you can. Before it’s too late.’

  ‘I can’t, not yet.’

  ‘Whatever you do, it doesn’t matter. It won’t change him or the university: he’s too valuable. He’s untouchable.’ She blew out a breath and stood up. ‘I should go. I’ve said far too much already.’

  ‘We’ll wait with you,’ Marie said. ‘Until you can call a taxi.’

  Gillian indicated the end of the lane, where a saloon car was pa
rked on the grass verge.

  ‘I asked him to wait for ten minutes. Didn’t think it would be long before I got thrown out.’

  *

  They watched the tail lights of the taxi receding into the distance then walked back down the drive to the house, back towards the party. Sarah looked up to take in the grandeur of the house again as they approached the front door. There was a face at one of the bedroom windows. A face dark with such fierce anger that Sarah had to look away.

  Caroline Lovelock glared down at them, arms crossed, eyes filled with fury.

  10

  The end of Monday couldn’t come soon enough. Yet Sarah didn’t want it to arrive. As a young girl, she’d been the same at Christmas. She loved everything about Christmas Day – the presents, the food, the games, having her nana and grandad there from Southend – but she also loved the anticipation beforehand almost as much. Of knowing that it was all still to come.

  Her email from Lovelock’s PA – summoning her to a so-called ‘outcome meeting’ – had duly arrived just after two o’clock. She had stared at it in her inbox for a full minute, knowing that six other emails would be dropping into colleagues’ inboxes at virtually the same moment. Jocelyn Steer prepared all the drafts at the same time and then sent them in a quick sequence, bang bang bang, so everyone received them within the space of a minute.

  Sarah clicked on the email. Her meeting with Lovelock was booked in for five o’clock.

  She’d been holding her breath without realising it. She exhaled heavily and allowed herself a little smile: the timing was good. A five o’clock meeting time meant she was one of the last, if not the last to be booked in. She read the email twice to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood, clicked Accept invitation to add the meeting to her Outlook diary.

  The meeting time was pretty much as late as she could push it to still get to after-school club in time to get the kids, without getting fined for being late. Again. Ordinarily she’d ask her dad to pick them up but Monday was his walking day, when he and his friend Pete would head off into the countryside for an eight or nine-mile walk, stopping at a country pub on the way. They were both widowers and their Monday walks had become an established habit over the last few years. He’d have skipped it without a second thought if she’d asked him, but she didn’t want him to miss out.

  Her phone buzzed. A text from Marie.

  How are you doing? Am in the most boring Senate meeting in history. x

  Sarah knew what her friend was really asking. She typed a reply: Good. Got promotions outcome meeting booked for 5. x

  The reply was emojis rather than text:

  A moment later another message followed it: Nice and late! Good luck – rooting for you! Let me know how you get on. x

  Sarah smiled. She hoped that next year, when promotions came around again, it would be her turn to give Marie encouragement as she made a move up the ladder.

  Will do. Thanks. x

  She was aware that she was about to break one of the Rules: don’t be alone with him. But there was nothing she could do about that – all the meetings were held in Lovelock’s office because there had to be privacy for those receiving the news. Knowing the meeting was coming, she’d worn trousers and a blouse buttoned up to the neck, with a jacket. Lovelock always kept his office unseasonably warm but she had no intention of taking her jacket off, even if it was thirty degrees in there.

  She sat at her desk for a moment longer, trying to concentrate on her breathing. Relax. It’s a formality, it’s going to be fine. This is what you’ve been waiting for, what you’ve worked for.

  She stood up and headed for his office.

  *

  Lovelock beamed at her when she came in, gesturing to the empty seat in front of his desk.

  ‘Ah, Sarah, lovely to see you. Sorry for keeping you hanging on until the end of the day.’

  She sat, straight-backed, in the empty chair.

  ‘It’s no problem.’

  ‘How are you feeling today?’

  ‘Good.’ She felt herself starting to sweat in the warmth of his office. ‘I think.’

  ‘How’s the teaching going? Not taking on too much, are you? With all that admin as well?’

  ‘No, it’s fine, it’s a bit of a juggling act sometimes, but, you know . . . The students are lovely. I’m enjoying it.’

  ‘Excellent.’ He dragged the word out, rolling it around his mouth. ‘Glad to hear it. And that latest journal publication?’

  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, wondering how long he would string out the small talk.

  ‘Should be published any day now.’

  ‘Great. Would you like a cup of tea, by the way? I can get Jocelyn to make us one.’

  ‘I’m fine, really.’

  It was always weird when he was like this – normal, reasonable, professional – because she knew what he was capable of, the depths his behaviour had plumbed in the past. She had never been able to understand how these two different characters seemed to coexist quite comfortably inside his head. Or how fast he could switch between the two.

  Lovelock reached for a folder on the desk in front of him, flipping to a page marked with a green Post-it note.

  ‘So: we held the promotions committee meeting earlier today, as I’m sure you know.’

  ‘Yes, I was aware.’ Here we go, she thought. She wanted to remember the details of what he said because she knew Marie would ask her later. Her dad would ask her too. This was the day, the hour, the minute, that her life was going to change for the better, and she wanted to remember everything.

  ‘There have been some big decisions this year,’ Lovelock said. ‘We’re lucky to have so much stellar talent in this department.’

  He let the silence ring out for five seconds. Then ten. Sarah thought about jumping in, but didn’t want to talk over him. So she held her tongue.

  He smiled again, his lips stretching back to show small, yellowed teeth.

  ‘In fact,’ he continued, ‘I’m struggling to remember when we had so many committed, talented colleagues around the table. It’s a wonderful team we have, it really is.’

  Another pause. This time Sarah couldn’t stand to let it go on.

  ‘Yes, it is lovely to be part of such a great team.’

  ‘I’m so glad you agree, Sarah.’

  It occurred to her that he was enjoying this. Immensely. Drawing it out, savouring the moment, holding her future in the palm of his hand. It was a power thing, she supposed. She made a mental note to never, ever, drag it out like this when she was delivering good news to junior colleagues in the future.

  She couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

  ‘So were you able to – to reach a decision on all of the candidates today?’

  ‘Yes. We were.’ He paused again, nodding, his unblinking eyes on hers. ‘It’s bad news, I’m afraid.’

  11

  Sarah was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. She blinked quickly and swallowed hard, feeling the ground shift beneath her feet. This wasn’t happening. It was a joke, surely? A bad joke, but a joke nonetheless. In a moment he would crack a smile and say Only joshing, my girl, of course you’ve got it, do you think I’m mad? Oh, my dear, the look on your face is absolutely priceless!

  But he didn’t smile. He didn’t move. His eyes never left hers.

  ‘Bad news?’ she repeated, her voice cracking.

  Lovelock nodded slowly, lips pursed together, like he was a doctor giving a terminal diagnosis.

  She felt the emotion bubbling up in her chest, long-suppressed.

  ‘You’re not putting me forward? For a permanent contract?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Are you . . . are you sure?’ she said. It had to be a joke.

  Lovelock leaned forward on his big oak desk, crossing his arms.

  ‘It’s just not your time, Sarah: you’re not quite ready yet. Almost, but not quite.’

  ‘I am ready.’ The words felt inadequate. ‘More t
han ready.’

  ‘Believe me when I say this is not easy for me either, but it wouldn’t be in your best interests to put you up for a permanent post at this stage. I know it’s tough to hear now, but in the long run, you’ll thank me.’

  The anger started to burn hot in her cheeks.

  ‘Thank you? For what? Once again denying me the promotion that I should have had last year? Denying me progression in my career? Denying me recognition for what I’ve done?’

  ‘I know you really want this. But you need to demonstrate your commitment to the discipline. You’ve already got two little children; how do I know you’re not going to be disappearing off to pop out more babies as soon as you get that permanent contract? Leaving your colleagues in the lurch while you go for a nice maternity leave holiday and we don’t see you for another year.’ He gave her a lascivious smile. ‘More to the point, I don’t see you for a year.’

  Sarah sat up straighter. The prospect of her popping out more babies was distant indeed considering Nick was off with his girlfriend in Bristol. But she was staggered that Lovelock had dropped it into the conversation so casually.

  ‘Hang on, you can’t use that as a –’

  ‘In a year’s time, in the next promotions round, I think you’ll have a solid chance. In the meantime you need to keep building, keep moving forward. Embrace all the opportunities that come your way – grab them with both hands.’ He leaned forward. ‘All of them.’

  Sarah felt her anger flare, and fought hard to keep her voice level.

  ‘I set up the new masters programme this year, basically ran the whole thing. We’ve had a good first year. Really good. All the signs are positive.’

  He sat back in his big chair, the leather creaking under his weight.

  ‘I do love to see you angry, Sarah.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re so sexy when you’re angry.’

  ‘Why do you think you can say that? Why do you think it’s OK?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘It’s true. You are.’

  ‘Why did you tell me at your party on Saturday that I’d got the position? Why did you say that if you were never going to put me forward?’

  ‘I didn’t say you’d got it, I asked if you wanted it. How badly you wanted it. Your behaviour over the last few months illustrates perfectly that you don’t want it badly enough.’