Chapter 37 Polly
Polly
There’s a restless tension in the bus as they wait for Reubyn to re-emerge.
He came back from his shoot soaked to the skin and with a face like a slapped arse.
He barely uttered a word – just got straight into the shower.
Since then, he’s been loitering in the bedroom for the entire afternoon, avoiding them. But he can’t avoid them forever.
The other six are sprawled about the living area, and, with the rain hammering on the roof, Polly can’t hear the quiet conversation going on between Elis and Faith over in the corner.
Miles, Jessie and George have been chatting, but the conversation has been listless and slow-moving and has now dried up.
Everyone has been growing more ill-tempered, tired and unsettled.
But at least there’s now an overwhelming consensus that they need to leave – today.
Apart from anything else, it would be good to move into an area with some signal.
There might be an update from the police.
Just as importantly, Polly needs to do some work.
She desperately needs to do some work. Being unable to check in on her staff, to ensure her business is running smoothly, is filling her with anxiety.
Even though she’s managing a small team, poor Dee will be stressing out, because she’s used to Polly at least checking in with her every morning.
And her junior staff, who have already gone rogue in Polly’s absence, will have now turned completely feral.
If Polly had known she would need to take so much time out this year, she would’ve taken on staff with more experience, rather than a couple of trainees.
Now she’s got a potential disaster on her hands.
Marco is keen but has a tendency to screw things up.
It’s like working with a puppy. His eagerness is endearing but he needs reining in, and it wouldn’t come as a surprise if he’s already launched some ill-conceived campaign in the two days Polly’s been unable to monitor his work.
And then there’s Callie. If Polly doesn’t designate specific tasks, her default setting is to do nothing.
Preoccupied by these thoughts, before checking out of the Queenstown hotel, Polly decided to do an impromptu performance appraisal – going through Callie’s work emails.
Her activity was underwhelming, to say the least. In fact, she had sent so few emails that it didn’t take long before Polly had sifted through more than a week’s worth.
It was at that point that she noticed an alarming thread in Callie’s inbox.
Next to the name James Gardner was a subject line that gave Polly a sudden chill.
Story about Miles Deverill, it said. Polly clicked it open immediately.
Gardner, it transpired, was a reporter from The Chronicle, responding to an email Callie had sent to their tip-offs mailbox.
There were a total of six emails in the exchange, outlining the whole sordid arrangement – the story she’d sold to them.
The Chronicle had agreed to pay her ￡200 – barely more than Polly pays her for a day’s work – and in return, Callie gave them everything: their flight details, the name of their hotel (which mercifully didn’t appear in the resulting article), and who was going on the trip.
She also provided them with Miles’s motivation for going, later attributed to a source close to the family.
Polly could barely believe it. Callie had sold out their whole family for the price of a good haircut.
The discovery left her so boiling with rage that she had to take a cold shower to try to calm herself down before calling to confront her.
Callie hadn’t picked up at first. And by the time Polly finally got through, she was preparing to check out.
That hadn’t helped defuse the situation at all.
As Polly held her phone to her ear in one hand, and tried to manoeuvre her bulky luggage through the door with the other, she’d completely lost her temper.
Callie obviously hadn’t realised her boss had the right to trawl her emails – the shock at being caught was evident in her voice.
But, luckily for her, it turned out to be a short conversation because George appeared out of nowhere, forcing Polly to end the call.
She hasn’t been able to speak to Callie since, and the way the situation was left is far from ideal.
Essentially, she gave Callie a short but ferocious bollocking, then hung up on her and immediately went offline for days on end.
And that’s not great management. You don’t need to be Richard Branson to realise that what Polly’s done isn’t the way to deal with an HR issue of this magnitude.
If you need to fire someone, it’s even more important to do things by the book.
Otherwise, you’re simply asking for an employment tribunal.
Polly’s stress levels keep rising the longer the situation remains unresolved.
The door to the kitchen opens, and all eyes turn to Reubyn. He flips on the kettle and rummages through the cupboards, pretending not to notice their stares.
‘Reubyn,’ George hollers. ‘Can we have a word?’
He approaches, wearing a deadpan expression. ‘What’s up?’
‘We want to get out of here. We all do.’
Reubyn looks around at their nodding faces. ‘Okay.’ He shrugs. ‘So do I.’
‘Great,’ George says. He pushes his lower lip out, and glances at the others. ‘Let’s get packed up and get going, then.’
Miles rises. Polly follows suit, eager to move on.
‘Wait,’ Reubyn says. ‘We can’t go right now.’ He points to the window. ‘Look at it out there.’
‘Jesus, Reubyn,’ George says. ‘It’s just a bit of rain. It’ll be fine, come on, let’s skedaddle.’
‘It’s not just a bit of rain, is it? It’s biblical out there – there’s probably flooding. And it’s not just the rain anyway, it’s the wind.’
‘Now you’re just making excuses.’
‘No, George, I’m trying to stop you from dying.’
George scoffs.
‘It’s not like driving a car,’ Reubyn says. ‘This is a high-sided vehicle – it could tip over in a gale.’
‘It doesn’t look gale-force to me,’ Miles says, peering out.
‘That’s because we’re in the forest. We’re sheltered by the trees. It’ll be different out on the roads.’
Everyone is silent, and Polly senses a stalemate. They need a compromise if they’re going to get out of here. ‘We could drive a little way, and see how we go,’ she says. ‘If it’s really that bad, we can just pull over and camp up?’
‘Sounds fair,’ George quickly adds.
Reubyn shakes his head. ‘We need to identify a spot to camp. You can’t just park up on the street – it needs planning.’
‘No one could blame us for parking up in a storm.’
Reubyn folds his arms. ‘The answer’s no.’
Polly opens her mouth but George comes in loudly before she can say anything.
‘Screw that,’ he says. ‘You don’t get to call the shots – this isn’t a dictatorship, last time I checked.’
‘That may be. But I’m the only one who can drive this thing, and I’m not driving it anywhere tonight, so it looks like we’re staying.’
George puffs his cheeks. ‘For heaven’s sake.’
‘It’s only one more night,’ Elis says. ‘It’s not really a big deal, is it?’
George jerks his head at him like a raptor. ‘It is a big deal when all of us except him’ – George points at Reubyn – ‘want to leave.’
‘Not all of us,’ Elis says. ‘I don’t particularly care, either way.’
‘Who asked you, anyway?’
‘Sorry, George, do I need permission to speak?’
‘If you haven’t got anything sensible to say, then yes.’
Elis sighs. ‘I’m not going to let you speak for me. As far as I’m concerned, this is a perfectly nice spot to camp, and I wouldn’t mind staying another night.’
George ignores Elis and turns to face Miles. ‘Will you kindly have a word with your beg friend and tell him his opinion doesn’t carry any weight in this group?’
Silence. The atmosphere shifts before George has even finished his sentence. His words are delivered casually, as if a throwaway remark of no consequence. But the impact is stark. The group exchange nervous glances.
Elis appears stunned for a moment, then glares at George. ‘Beg friend?’
Polly shakes her head. This situation is close to getting out of control. ‘George, stop it.’
George fixes Polly with a serious stare, and, just for a second, it looks as if he might back down.
Maybe even apologise. But then the corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk and his eyes take on a maniacal glint – the look of a man who simply wants to watch the world burn.
Suddenly, the rain beating against the roof sounds like a percussionist brushing a snare.
It’s like a drum roll to highlight the growing tension, increasing in energy and volume right up until this show’s big reveal.
Polly can almost hear the climactic clash of a cymbal as George begins to speak.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he says, his eyes back on Elis. ‘Beg friend. As in, someone who doesn’t have real friends and has to desperately cling on where he’s not wanted. Beg. Friend.’
Faith and Jessie look at each other, grimacing.
Elis slowly stands. His hands are tense, fingers clawing by his sides, which then ball into fists. ‘Why don’t you come here and call me that?’
George springs to his feet with a grin and walks towards him. ‘I’d be happy to, beg friend.’
In a sudden, spring-like movement, Elis’s arm uncoils and he strikes out at George, his fist thudding against his cheek.
George stumbles and steadies himself on the sideboard.
Reubyn, Miles and Faith rush in to fill the space between them.
They bark at Elis, ordering him back, and form a barrier to stop the two men from reaching each other.
Jessie is frozen, her hands covering her mouth in shock.
Polly groans and makes a dismissive remark, but she too is shocked.
Witnessing this sudden act of violence gives her a pang of nausea.
George appears dazed for a moment as he presses three fingers to his reddening face. Then his eyes bulge. Still holding his face, he jabs a finger at Elis. ‘You’ll regret that.’
Elis smirks. ‘I doubt it.’
George’s tongue forms a moving lump under his skin as it explores for damage inside his mouth. He slowly nods. ‘Oh, you will.’
‘Cut it out, you two,’ Polly snaps. ‘This isn’t helping our situation one bit.’
Elis has already turned away. He grabs his coat off its hook and opens the door, and the sound of the storm intensifies for a moment before he walks out. The door slams shut behind him.
George begins a tirade about Elis, and Polly turns her back, trying to tune out his angry outburst. She slumps on to the bench and puts her head in her hands.
They need to leave. But with Reubyn digging his heels in, and Elis having just wandered off, that’s not happening.
They’re going to have to stay here a little longer – in a place that is totally cut off, both digitally and geographically.
And there’s something else that’s started niggling away at her since she witnessed that ugly scene.
What if George is right? They don’t know Elis that well, and he can seem quite intense – as evidenced by the assault he just launched.
What if Miles has made a mistake in trusting this guy?
Maybe they shouldn’t have invited him along. And now they’re stuck with him.