Chapter 1 #2
“I’d rather not talk about it.” She placed the photograph back on her desk, next to the one of her family. In her last job they’d had a hot-desk system, and no one had been allowed to display a single personal item. RPQ Events was a very different place.
There were plants, and a fish tank, and people were encouraged to personalize their work stations. Anya’s computer was framed by fairy lights and no one seemed to mind.
Glancing around her on her first day, Imogen had seen everything from fluffy mascots to family photos. She’d stared at her stark, empty desk and decided she needed to do something about it.
Come on, Imogen, show us your family, Janie had said cheerfully and Anya had nodded in agreement. Do you have any pets? We’re all animal lovers here. Even Danny, although he’ll tell you he bought the rabbits for his daughters. Don’t believe him for a moment.
She’d never had a personal photo on her desk before, but here the absence of it drew attention so she’d done the same.
She’d appreciated how welcoming they were and wanted to be part of the team so she’d carefully selected one photo of Midas, and one family photo taken at Christmas.
Everyone was huddled together, laughing for the camera as they struggled not to lose their footing in the snow.
Imogen loved that photo. Everyone looked so happy.
“We’re here for you, Imogen.” Janie reached across and rubbed Imogen’s shoulder in a show of solidarity.
“You’re so brave and strong. You’ve been coming in every day and working hard and none of us even guessed!
It must be awful not having your furry friend there to greet you when you get home.
I’m sure you miss him horribly. We had no idea you were going through this.
You seem so normal. Honestly, you’re amazing, although I’m sure it helps having such a close family. ”
Imogen started to panic. She found personal conversations like this really unsettling. Any moment now they’d be suggesting grief counseling. She needed to shut this down before it went any further.
“I do miss him, but he’s in good hands and I’m sure he’ll soon be home. If you could get those costs now, I’d be able to send this through to the client by lunchtime.”
“Working on it now. What’s wrong with him?”
“What’s wrong with who?”
“Midas.” Anya’s eyes were wide with sympathy. “Nothing serious, I hope. I don’t know how you can concentrate on work when he’s ill.”
“They’re not sure what’s wrong,” Imogen said. “They’re running tests.”
This was the problem with working in an open-plan office. People wanted detail.
Much of her time was spent out and about with clients at their offices, visiting venues or supervising events, but eventually she had to return to her desk and that meant being cocooned with her colleagues.
And it wasn’t that she didn’t like them because she did.
She liked them a great deal, but there was a fine line between fitting in and being welded together.
If someone wanted to talk, then she was always willing to listen but sometimes the level of information became too much (close physical proximity didn’t seem to be the moderating influence it should have been).
Take Janie for example. Because Janie never bothered to leave her desk when taking a personal call, Imogen knew that she lived with her mother, had one sister who was married and that she was currently dating two different men so that she had backup in the event that one of them ghosted her (Janie’s father had walked out when she was ten, leaving her with a perpetual mistrust of the opposite sex).
Then there was Peter. Peter was head of tech, and he sat to her left.
He’d been with the company for six months, yet despite this relatively short acquaintance she knew he had an appointment with his doctor on Friday to talk about a part of his body Imogen tried never to picture in a colleague.
She knew his girlfriend wanted them to move in together and she knew Pete had no intention of doing that because she’d heard him on the phone to his landlord renewing his rental for another year.
And there was Danny, another account manager, who spent a large part of the day arranging gym sessions and after-work drinks so that he could arrive home after his wife had put their four-year-old twins to bed.
Yes, he had rabbits, but judging from the conversation he’d never picked them up or cleaned up after them.
That was his wife’s responsibility (and his wife seemed to have a great number of responsibilities).
Imogen filed all the things she heard into a compartment in her brain labeled things I wish I didn’t know and tried to forget about them. The thing she found less easy to handle was the fact that they wanted to know about her, too.
She was a private person and given the choice she would have revealed nothing about her personal life, but she wanted to fit in.
She wanted people to like her. So she did what everyone else did and put photos on her desk.
She chatted. And the chat requirement was about to escalate because they were heading into the worst month of the year for team bonding activities.
December.
Imogen knew that the “bring your dog to work” day would just be the start of many Christmas celebrations.
There would be the office Christmas lunch, the Secret Santa, the charity quiz night (which one of the following is not one of Santa’s reindeer?).
The list was endless and, although her colleagues knew a few things about her, the one thing they didn’t know was that she dreaded Christmas.
Last year had been easy because she’d only joined a few days before, but this year promised to be more of a trial.
“At least you’ll have time off with him over Christmas.
” Janie flashed her a smile. “Only thirty-six sleeps to go. We’re spending Christmas with my sister this year.
I can’t wait. She has a bigger house and a bigger TV.
How about you, Imogen? Please tell me you are taking time off.
The office closed for a week last year but still you sent emails on Christmas Day. I mean, who does that?”
“I’d just joined the company. I was keen.
” That wasn’t really the reason, but it worked well enough.
“I didn’t expect you to look at them. But with the office closed and clients enjoying the holidays it seemed like the perfect time to catch up.
I wanted to be able to hit the ground running in January. ”
“But it was your holiday, too. Why weren’t you just hanging out with your family?”
“I was. I’m the family champion at charades.
” Imogen moved the photo of Midas next to the one of her family.
“Also we all help with the cooking, so there’s plenty of time to chat then.
But there were a few hours in the day when everyone was either watching a movie, or sleeping off too much food, so I opened my laptop.
” And she didn’t want to think about it. She really didn’t.
“You’re obsessed,” Anya said. “Don’t take your laptop this year, then you won’t be tempted. It was a bit startling to turn on my computer on January 2 and find fifty-six emails from you waiting in my inbox.”
“I like to end the year with everything tidy,” Imogen said. “I spent plenty of time with family, don’t worry.”
Janie sat back and shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it all.
You hardly ever come out with us after work because you’re either babysitting your niece and nephew or you’re visiting your grandmother.
You have a dog. You do everything for everyone, and still handle an inhuman workload.
And you never take time off. How many holiday days are you carrying forward into next year? ”
“Er—I don’t know. Most of them I think.”
“Exactly! Would you slow down? You make the rest of us feel inadequate.”
“You’re all great,” Imogen said. “We’re a great team.”
“We are, but if you’re not careful you’re going to burn out. You’ve been working every weekend, so you deserve a good break. Your family home looks like a dreamy place to spend Christmas. That gorgeous house. All that countryside. Midas must love it. Are you excited?”
Christmas, Christmas, Christmas.
As far as her colleagues were concerned, it was never too soon to talk about Christmas. It made her want to scream.
This year the conversation had started in July (July! What was wrong with people?) when Anya had indulged in a Christmas movie marathon over the weekend and proceeded to talk about it for several weeks after.
In October Janie had returned from a trip to the supermarket to buy a salad and pointed out that the shelves were already lined with Christmas decorations and Christmas chocolate. She’d placed her plastic looking salad on her desk, along with a garishly wrapped chocolate Santa.
“I normally avoid chocolate, but Christmas is the exception,” she’d told them happily as she’d stripped the Santa of its red foil and bitten off the head. “How about you, Imogen?”
Imogen had focused on her computer screen and hoped they’d lose interest.
“I refuse to think about Christmas in October. It’s too soon.” It was okay to say that wasn’t it? Plenty of people refused to think about Christmas in October.
A month later, when someone had asked her about plans for the office Christmas party, she’d said the same thing.
“I refuse to talk about Christmas in November. It’s too soon.”
But in a week’s time it would be December and Imogen would have run out of viable excuses. Decorations glittered in shop windows. Christmas music boomed relentless cheer over loudspeakers.
She couldn’t avoid the topic any longer.
She’d have this one conversation and hopefully that would be it for a while.