Chapter 3
Emma
“What time are they due back?” Mum asks. It’s Christmas day. A time for giving and peace on Earth. Apparently Nigel has forgotten that mantra, instead focusing his ire on the fact that it’s my turn to have the boys Christmas day and Boxing day.
His nasty calls started yesterday. For the record, I’ve never kicked up the fuss he has.
Ever. It’s the same thing every year he can’t have them for the full day on Christmas day.
But we alternate, and have been doing it that way every year since the divorce.
You’d have thought he’d have got to grips with it by now.
So, Christmas Eve this year was their version of a Christmas dinner, as they would not be with him on the special day.
But I think he spent more time on the phone to me—moaning, shouting, and bawling—than he did with any of his children.
In the end, I stopped picking up. My mum and dad are waiting patiently with me for Nigel to drop my children back off. The boys’ friends had called at the door on numerous occasions to show off their new bikes and compare gaming consoles, and a few kids are still circling.
We live on a new housing estate, lots of families with young kids.
A five-bedroom detached house that I didn’t want at the time of purchasing, and still didn’t want now.
But it’s home to my kids—the only home they’ve ever really known.
So when I decided to divorce my lying cheating scumbucket of human excrement ex, I decided to stay put and fight for it.
Why so much vitriol? Hah! He had toddled off with the new love of his life.
A woman who, just as a point to note, had given birth to a little boy—Carlton Drew Langford—the month before I gave birth to my third son, Nathan.
He couldn’t make it to the birth of my third child as he was far too busy with his latest newborn.
I’m sure you can spot the reason for the divorce, and all the acrimony.
Who goes off and has a baby with another woman, whilst trying to get me pregnant.
It’s not even as if Nathan wasn’t discussed, he was.
But clearly, Nigel forgot to mention that he was busy elsewhere.
Throw in hormones, and it was a mess. I was a mess.
I lost my husband, whom I thought I could count on.
I lost my business. I think, on reflection, eight years on, I was more upset about the business than him.
I’d started Prestige Recruitment Ltd with Nigel and his best mate Terry.
I remember the excitement of opening a business.
Loving the paperwork. The joke was Nigel wasn’t going to be part of the business at all, he only joined as an after thought.
At the time, he was working a full time job in bank management.
But he’d wanted to be included, so we added him on.
Not for the financials, and certainly not for what happened afterwards.
But once I discovered Nigel’s infidelity and huge deceit, I couldn't stand to be in the same room as him, never mind run a company with him. So I never contested being fired. I walked away.
As soon as I was able, I set up Synergy Recruitment Ltd and started from scratch. Louise had been a long time friend from school and had worked with me at Prestige. As soon as she knew I’d set up on my own, she took a risk, gave notice to Nigel and Terry, and came to work for me.
We worked hard to build up the new business, deliberately not fishing in the same pond as Prestige and focusing on office workers and construction workers instead.
But also on a much smaller scale. Where Prestige went for the big corporations, I stayed with smaller companies.
Giving the real personal touch. Yet Nigel and Terry could not seem to leave me alone.
Periodically, I’d find that a client I thought was happy suddenly gave notice.
Some even embarrassed to do so. Citing money and the inducements that Prestige offered to leave me.
I ignored the first few, but on the fifth client in as many months, I questioned Nigel.
A waste of time. All the usual sayings trotted out, including ‘all’s fair in business’ and ‘you snooze you lose.’ I felt that their insecurities were behind it, not my inability to keep clients.
If people are offered free money, what are they supposed to do? I just carried on, working harder.
But as Christmas sweeps by and New Year’s approaches, I know the meeting with the accountant on January 2nd is going to be pivotal.
I’m not looking forward to it. I’ve tried to bury my head in the sand, but I’m too pragmatic for that.
Too logical. And although I don’t want to admit it, things are not looking good.
“When’s the meeting with the accountant?” Dad asks me as he’s still packing some of the Christmas holiday debris away.
Both my parents know my situation. They’ve always been my most amazing support network.
They still live in London, but spend most of the time with me here in St. Albans.
Dad renovated the garage into a bit of an annexe, and they stay over lots of nights, especially if I’m working late.
Dad has ferried the boys to clubs and into London for futsal or cricket, which is a passion in our house.
My building’s downstairs is a focal point for all of this a few nights a week.
“Are you worried about your office team?” He knows I worry about everyone.
“Team yes, but mainly us. I have to carry on. It’s essential. The kids need me. And I need the money. Teenagers are more expensive than toddlers,” I moan.
“Kids are always expensive, whatever the age.” He shoulder bumps me in agreement. I think I still cost him a small fortune.
Ollie, now seventeen, just passed his driving test, and Dad purchased a small car for his oldest grandson from one of his friends.
So he’s been out and about over the Christmas holidays, enjoying the new car freedoms, at friends’ houses, being a chauffeur for them all.
Noah started guitar lessons last year and plays in a school band.
Nathan is a computer whiz, and joined his school's computer club.
But they all have a passion for cricket, and play at the local cricket club, where my dad was a founding member.
I have no time for anything for myself. Too busy keeping up with my kids' hobbies and running a business to generate enough money to keep the hobbies going.
“Have you got a plan?” I can see the concern on his face.
“Yes. I’m presenting it the day after tomorrow.” I sigh. “I think I may have to downsize. I really don’t want to lay anyone off. But it sort of looks inevitable.” I take a deep breath in.
He turns his eyes on me and comes over when he sees my face. I’m aware I don’t look good.
“Look love, I know you probably don’t want to, but do you think you should hear what the offer is from the developer?
Don’t worry about me or your mum if you need to sell.
That building was bought to help us, not to be hung onto regardless of our circumstances.
” His voice is soft and cajoling. He knows I don’t want to sell.
“I’ve paid some of the wages from my business overdraft last month.
I can probably do that again next month.
After that, I’m into my own savings, and beyond that, all out.
With no income, I’m a few months away from oblivion.
I don’t want to use my overdraft, and I absolutely do not want to use my savings.
I need to make some serious changes just to preserve the company.
Otherwise it will all go under.” I’m huffing and blowing, and just saying the words out loud is making my guts ache.
“Well look, I just didn’t want you to cut it out of your thinking.
I’ll back you, Mum will back you. We love helping with the boys, being a part of their lives.
” He pulls me in for a hug. “Stay strong. You’ve come so far, and I know it hasn’t been easy.
What with Nigel doing what he did and then shafting you again with the business. ”
Dad’s lip is curling up. He can hardly bear to look at Nigel, never mind discussing anything with him.
He can’t get over that they basically fired me from the company I started.
And if Nigel starts on about how successful Prestige is these days, Dad looks like he’s going to bust a gut—and it’s not his own.
But Nigel as ever is so thick-skinned, he still tries to talk to Dad as if nothing’s happened. As if he didn’t knock up another woman whilst doing the same to me, and then steal my business out from under me. The joke was he was a silent partner. And for silent, see lazy bastard who didn’t work.
“It will be fine, Dad. I’m not going to put my family in jeopardy. Let me see the accountant first and then I’ll start to look at my options.”
“The cupboard is bare, Emma. If you can’t increase your revenue, you won’t be able to pay your salaries.
” I open my mouth to protest, but he’s not done.
“Your savings are not income.” Derek peers over his glasses at me.
He’s been my accountant since I started up.
“And whatever you do, do not mortgage your house. Whatever the bank says you’ve got to do, don’t do it.
Speak to me first. They always go for that as they know you’ll pay whatever the weather.
” He’s serious, and has my interests at heart. I’ve got to remember that.
“I’ve got a few small contracts in my inbox, they should see me through until at least March.
” My voice is getting smaller and smaller.
But I will not admit defeat. I can’t. “Something will turn up. I’ve just got to keep plugging away.
I’m at a couple of recruitment conferences—one in London and one in Berlin in a few weeks time.
The European building sector is strong, especially in Germany.
Do I have enough money to go?” I hope he says yes. I’m hanging my hat on it.