by Jade West
Strangely enough, the animosity that bristled my senses didn’t seem to be coming from Verity’s direction. I’d coach her for long afternoons, as promised during her back office meltdown, and she barely even gave her sister a second glance.
But of course she wouldn’t. Verity had a much bigger game plan. She was all out to get better, to prove her worth. Her grit had been tested and found lacking, and she’d come back with steel in her gut for round two.
Verity Faverley fucking nailed round two.
She soaked in everything, every little piece of advice, every scrap of feedback. She took sales materials home at night, and be all the wiser for it next morning.
She impressed me in a way I’d have never expected. Brat comes good. Who’d have ever thought it?
Seemingly not Katie. She refused to acknowledge Verity’s existence, certainly not as a contender. Not on the face of it.
Katie and Ryan topped the sales leaderboard with ease over the first few weeks. They’d finish up ahead of everyone else without breaking a sweat, every day without fail. Sometimes Katie would take the day, sometimes Ryan, but their relationship was full of easy camaraderie, content in the knowledge that they were the two to watch. They were smashing targets, producing sales leads that were progressing into real opportunities for the field based teams. They were developing a solid pipeline, networking with the right people in the right target organisations. They were good. Really fucking good.
They made me so proud.
But so did Verity. Her steely resolve as she learned the trade from the ground up. She wasn’t a firework, one of those bright burners that shoot across the sky. She was a submarine, cruising under the surface, unnoticed until she was in the right position. Then, BAM, one day she hit her zone. She made her calls with confidence, armed with product knowledge that would have put most field reps to shame. She asked the right questions, with a framework to understand the answers. She hit the phone, making those calls steadily, without blips or slumps, and she started bringing those leads in.
What Verity Faverley lacked in natural communication skills she made up for in effort.
She crept up through the ranks, a couple of leads at first, the odd one here or there which morphed into a clockwork performance of one a day. Then more. She consumed data, ate through calling records on her quest to hit the top echelons, and one day, as we reached the middle of the telemarketing phase of the internship programme, she was hot on the Katie-Ryan superteam’s tail.
Once she had their tail, they couldn’t shake her off. However many leads they generated, she was always right there. She’d clock one up on the board for almost every one they did, and once she had the bug it possessed her, consumed her.
She was in early every morning, picking up the phone to catch those targets unavailable in office hours. She was working through lunch, to the point I’d have to turf her from her seat to make sure the girl was eating properly. She was staying late to listen through her call recordings.
“She’s doing well, your sister,” I said to Katie in the car one night. “Really well. She’s really put the work in.”
All I got was a shrug. “Good for her.”
“Is that really what you think?”
“I really think I couldn’t care less how the bitch is doing. And she’s not my sister, Carl, she’s made that perfectly clear.”
I opted to push it. “Have you considered talking to her? Swapping some tips? Verity has her data management sales points nailed right on, she might have some useful info you can use in the big pharma vertical.”
And that’s when I knew for sure. It was the look in Katie’s eyes when she shot me a glare. It lasted no longer than a second, a momentary slip of her guard that revealed the powerhouse of resentment burning behind the scenes.
“I’ve got nothing to say to Verity,” she said. “Swapping tips with her really doesn’t interest me. I don’t need her tips, and she sure as fuck won’t want mine.”
“Don’t be so sure on that,” I said. “She’s a dedicated learner. I’m certain she’d appreciate your guidance.” I looked at her. “After all, you are top of the leaderboard, Katie, you have nothing to prove and everything to give.”
“I have everything to prove.” Her voice was edgy and raw. “Everything.”
Her tone made me pull the car over. I indicated into a shopping arcade, parked up in one of the empty spaces.
“What?” she said. “Why are we stopping?”
“We’re stopping because I want to say something. Because it’s important.” I turned to face her. “You have nobody doubting you, nobody trying to knock you down, or see you fail. The only person you have to prove anything to is you, Katie.”
She shook her head, scoffed at me. “Me, right. Sure. And Verity, and David sperm-donor Faverley and their whole fucking family, Carl.”
“Why so?”
“Because they expect me to fail,” she said. “They want me to fail. That’s why I’m even in this internship programme.” I raised my eyebrows, but she shook her head. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s true. Not for you, who wants the best for everyone, but for them. For them it’s all a stupid game. One silly gold envelope and an awkward hug doesn’t change the facts, Carl. He’s laughing at me, I’m a set up to prove she’s better than me. Just like always.”
“That really isn’t true, Katie.”
“That’s why my idiot father wants me here, just so Verity does better. Just like she always does better. So I can be the useless crappy sister again, and she can take all the glory. But not this time.” She smiled. “This time I’m coming out on top. Fuck them all.” She folded her arms. “I’m good at this shit, I know I’m good at this shit. Verity can fuck off if she thinks she’s going to be better than me at this shit.”
“She doesn’t,” I said. “She’s said nothing of the kind.”
She shook her head again. “She wouldn’t, would she? Not to you.”
“Has she said anything of the kind to anyone else? Anything you’ve heard?”
She shrugged. “I don’t need to hear anything. I know her.”
I squeezed her knee. “Sometimes people can surprise you, Katie. Maybe Verity is one of those people.”
“Nice try,” she said, and put her hand on mine. “I appreciate the sentiment, and the psycho-analysis, but those people are toxic, and I’m going to come out on top, just because I can. Just because this time, in this arena, I’m better than she is.”
“This will eat you up.” I looked at her but she wouldn’t look back. “Believe me, Katie, it’ll eat you up. Do this for you, not for other people, not to prove a point. Nobody is waiting for you to fail, there is no ulterior motive here, not for anyone.”
“Not for you, Carl, not for you.”
I sighed. “That first week on the phone, when you got your gold envelope, I found Verity sobbing her heart out in the stationery cupboard.”
“Good,” she said. “That’ll be a first. I had enough years of being the one crying, she can have it fucking back.”
I shook my head. “You know me, Katie, I’m going to just put this out there, what I think.”
“Mr Direct, yes, I know. Shoot.” She met my eyes. “Go on, tell me. What is it you think?” She sighed, softened her voice. “Go on, Carl. I’m listening.”
I squeezed her knee that little bit tighter. “I think it’s a two way street. I think she felt as rotten as you, feels as rotten as you did, as insecure as you, as inferior as she made you feel. I think she was lashing out, because underneath it all, Katie, underneath all her bullying and her bluster and the I’ve got more horses than you have bullshit, underneath everything you wanted and everything you tried and all the times you said you didn’t want to know your father and his posh snooty family, I think there were two very scared little girls who just wanted to feel loved by their dad. Who just wanted to feel good enough.”
She didn’t say a word. Didn’t even breathe.
“Am I right?”
> She shook her head and there were tears there.
“Talk to me,” I said. “Katie, I’m right here. You can talk to me, I get it. I get all of it.” I willed her to let me reach her. “I know what it’s like to have someone turn up out of the blue, someone you’ve dreamed of your whole fucking life. The magical father, the guy you dreamed would show up on a big fucking chariot and whisk you away with declarations of love and devotion and finally make you feel like someone who matters. I get what it feels like when it all turns out to be bullshit, when he turns out to be someone who doesn’t give a shit, not really. When it turns out your dreams were all for nothing, and you’re still the same sad kid without a dad.”
“Stop,” she said. “Please stop, Carl.”
“But your dad isn’t that man, Katie. Not like mine was. He’s just a guy who fucked up, who didn’t know what to do for the best, who doesn’t know how to make things right between two daughters he thinks the fucking world of.”
“Stop!” she said. “This isn’t how it is, Carl. This isn’t who he is. He didn’t want me. He never fucking wanted me!”
Her lip was trembling. It broke my heart.
“I thought he would be someone. I thought he would have a million answers, a million sorries. He didn’t even say sorry, Carl, not once. He came and dragged me out of my home, just to show me how wonderful his fucking life was, how wonderful his other fucking kids were, and then he’d drop me back again with a few poxy words about see you next time. Every fucking week, over and over, one long cycle of gloating and disappointment. I cried every weekend, Carl, every fucking weekend.” She stared out of the window, eyes glistening as a family with two young kids passed us by with a shopping trolley. “The guy’s an asshole and I want nothing to do with him. I want nothing to do with any of them.”
“But you’re doing it, Katie, you’re right there. I’m so proud of you, you have no idea how proud I am, that the spirited young woman in her bite me, baby t-shirt turned out to be such a talented, mature, dedicated, professional member of our internship programme.” I sighed. “And David’s proud, too. I promise you, Katie, he’s so proud of you. He’s always been proud of you.”
Her shoulders turned rigid. “No! He hasn’t! He’s not!”
“He is,” I said. “I’ve known him for twenty years. He’s the only person who ever gave me a shot. The only person who took the time to get to know me when I was a nobody. I know him, Katie, he’s like the father I always dreamt of.”
“You have him then! He didn’t do shit for me! Didn’t take any time for me when I was a nobody! He wasn’t there, Carl, he ditched my mum and abandoned her, abandoned us, just to rock up again like the big fucking I am and parade me around a life I wasn’t good enough for! He didn’t want my mum and he didn’t want me. Rubbing my face in a life I could have had if I was good enough just makes him a cunt, Carl, it doesn’t make him a fucking messiah. I know he gave you a shot, but he’s still an asshole who messed my mum’s life up, still an asshole that didn’t give a shit about me.”
“That’s what you think?”
She glared at me, and the first tears spilled, rolling down her cheeks as her breath caught in her throat. “That’s what I know.” She let out a little sob and it panged in my gut. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just let sleeping dogs lie? A couple of months and I’m out. Harrison Gables and I’m done. I never have to see him again. Any of them.”
“Because my dad was a cunt, Katie. Because even when he’d fucked me over, gone to prison and cast me aside like I meant nothing, I still wrote to him. Every week I wrote to him. Every week I prayed he’d write back. Even when I knew he was an asshole, that he didn’t give a shit about me, even then I still wrote to him and still cried every night because he didn’t write back.”
“We both have cunts for fathers.” She tried to laugh through the tears. “Maybe we should join a support group.”
“But you don’t,” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You have a father that made mistakes, but he loves you. Your father loves you.”
“He didn’t want me, Carl.” She let out a sob. “How can he love me if he didn’t want me?”
My heartbeat was in my stomach, my temples thumping as I wrestled with the words in my throat.
But I had to say them.
I always do.
“He didn’t even know you existed, Katie.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Katie
Carl pulled up outside mine, and the car wasn’t even stationary as I opened the door.
He took my wrist, held me back. “Katie, wait. I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have… we could go home, talk about this… think things through…”
“Stop,” I said. “I have to ask. I have to know.”
I took a moment to stare at him, and he was worried. Scared. His mouth was tight and his eyes were sad and lost and nothing like the Carl Brooks I worked with all day. But I didn’t have time for that, not right now.
“I have to do this,” I said. “Please, let me go, Carl.” I tugged my wrist from him.
“This is becoming a habit, me spouting my mouth off and sending you running home.”
“This isn’t the same,” I said. And it wasn’t, it wasn’t the same at all. “I’m running for answers, not running away. I’m all in, with you and Rick, whether you spout your mouth off or not. Ok?”
He nodded but didn’t smile. “I’ll wait for you,” he said.
“You don’t have to…”
“I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere, Katie. Take as long as you need.” He put the car in neutral and turned the engine off. “Take all night, I’ll still be right here.”
I managed a weak smile, but my head was already spinning, churning through memories and reflections, my heart in my stomach, all twisted up.
All through the drive back here I’d been grasping for evidence that Carl’s revelation couldn’t possibly be true, struggling to recall the moment I’d first found out my dad didn’t want to know me. That he’d abandoned my mum as a pregnant teenager and said he didn’t want to know either of us. That he knew I was a kid, growing up just a few miles away, that he hadn’t cared enough to want to be there. I knew that, right? I’d known that for as long as I could remember.
And that was the problem. I couldn’t remember ever not knowing that. I couldn’t recall a single conversation from my past that confirmed anything, not for definite, not a single one.
I’d always just known. Just like I’d known how to breathe. Just like I’d known how to walk, and eat, and go to sleep at night. I’d had fantasies that it wasn’t true, that my father was lost or incapacitated, on some adventure somewhere far away rather than being a straight out asshole, but I’d known they were fantasies.
And then one day he’d just shown up. And I’d been angry, upset that he’d taken so long, upset that he hadn’t wanted to know me.
But I’d never said that, not to him. I didn’t know him well enough, didn’t know him at all. I hadn’t sought answers, because I already knew every part of the story I cared to know, and he was too much of a bragging asshole to stoop low enough to apologise, even if I’d have wanted him to.
That’s what I’d thought. Known. That’s what happened. It happened.
“There must be a mistake,” I said. “Mum will probably wet herself when she realises how stupid the question is.” I let out a laugh that sounded fake enough to make me cringe. “I just can’t remember the details. That’s all this is.” I sighed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
His eyes pierced mine. “Forget I’m here, Katie, just concentrate on you.”
I nodded, and then I left him.
Mum was watching TV, some crappy weeknight quiz show after dinner. Her half-finished bowl of pasta was still at her side.
“Hi, sweetheart. Have you eaten? There’s some pasta on the hob.” She turned back to the screen. “Edison! Thomas Edison! He made the lightbulb!” The team on screen got it wrong and s
he let out a sigh, shook her head. “Dimwits. Where do they even find these people?”
I could only stare at her, at the mum who’d raised me, who’d loved me, who’d always been there. I took a seat on the armchair next to her, perched on the edge like a dithery little bird.
I felt so stupid, so angry at my thumping heart for even considering the need to ask the question. But I did need to.
“Mum, I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth, ok?”
She shot me a glance, and her eyebrows lifted. “What is it? My God, Katie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She paused the TV, turned in her seat to face me.
I took a breath. “He knew who I was, didn’t he? The sperm donor. He knew we were here, that I was here. He knew, right?” I smiled, waiting for her laughter, her look of surprise.
But it didn’t come. She looked like she’d seen a ghost, too.
“What did he say?” Her eyes were so wide. “What did he tell you?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. He didn’t… he never told me anything…” I fiddled with the hem of my skirt. “He did know, right? He knew about me?”
She was quiet.
“Mum, tell me.” I fought the panic. “Did he know about me? He did, didn’t he?”
“It’ll change everything.” Her voice sounded pained and I felt it. She sighed. “We said we wouldn’t dwell on the past… we agreed…”
Her eyes welled up, and I felt horrible. I felt terrible. Guilty and nasty and ungrateful.
“Just tell me,” I said. “Please, Mum, just tell me.”
She shook her head. “He didn’t… I didn’t…”
“You didn’t what?”
She breathed slowly, deeply, closed her eyes. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him.”
