Chapter 3
Eve
‘What about Jared, the new guy?’ Kirsty waves her champagne flute in the direction of the bar, where a huddle of developers are talking and picking at a bowl of wasabi peanuts.
‘What about more champagne?’ I reach out to grab a full glass from a passing waiter’s tray and lift it to my lips.
‘You’re impossible.’ Kirsty smiles. ‘But fine, I get it. No men unless they’re precisely picked by you and your crappy Tryst metrics.’
‘Thank you.’ I tap my glass against hers. ‘Look, here comes the man of the hour.’
Kirsty turns as Dev Kalhora strides into the room, a charming grin plastered across his face. Dev is Head of Marketing at our company, Florina, the biggest floristry retailer in the UK.
‘I see Eleanor’s ready to pop,’ Kirsty comments, her eyes drifting towards Dev’s wife, who sits prettily on a velvet chair, her gigantic bump at odds with her tiny frame.
‘Still another month to go yet,’ I say. ‘Twins show more, apparently.’
‘Well, they would, being literally two times the size.’ Kirsty steps back as Graham, the IT manager, worms his way into our huddle.
‘Evening, girls.’ He’s wearing old-fashioned braces and has his hair slicked back behind his ears. There’s something vaguely attractive about Graham, until he opens his mouth.
‘We’re not twelve, Graham.’ I take another sip of my champagne.
‘Stop flirting with me, Eve, it’s unprofessional.’ He winks at me and I roll my eyes.
‘What’s the news on our new friend Jared?’ Kirsty nods towards the bar again.
‘Why, are you interested?’ Graham asks.
‘I’m married, Graham.’
‘Well, it can’t be our Evie here. Eyes for no man unless they’re made of protein powder.’
I roll my eyes again. ‘Fuck off, Graham.’
Kirsty interrupts our usual back and forth, pointing over our shoulders. ‘Oh look, Brenda’s been at the strawberry daiquiris again.’
We turn around. Brenda is wearing a floor-length, skin-tight pink dress, covered in black roses. She’s got one leg up on the chair of Florina’s CEO, Michael Peters, and is looming over him provocatively.
‘God, poor Michael. It’s always him, isn’t it?’ My hand hangs by my side, and I feel Graham brush my wrist with his fingers as he speaks. I pull away, annoyed at myself for the small pang of desire I feel.
I carry on watching Brenda. She’s worked at Florina since before I was born, and is a walking contradiction. She’s married to a vicar, reads dirty novels in the canteen, has yet to make eye contact with a single one of her colleagues and hits on our CEO at every function. He’s actually stopped coming to as many, it’s become that predictable.
A chafing screech comes from the microphone at the front of the room, and I reluctantly turn away from the bi-annual Brenda show. Dev has mounted the stage, and is now beaming down at us, his perfect, eye-wateringly expensive teeth fluorescent under the artificial lights.
‘Hello, everyone.’ He raises his hand, and a cheer goes around the room. ‘Thank you all for coming. I’m aware that this seems rather grandiose for a twelve-month paternity leave send-off, but after six years at Florina you guys feel like family, and it didn’t feel right to leave for so long without having some kind of celebration.’
‘Wonder what I’d get if I got myself knocked up,’ Kirsty mutters beside me. ‘A Papa John’s spread in Meeting Room One?’
We both glance over to Eleanor, who is staring at Dev adoringly. Then my eye is caught by Brenda again, who is still draped over Michael’s lap, holding the stem of a maraschino cherry between two sticky fingers.
‘Do you think he’s going to announce his cover?’ Graham murmurs in my ear, and the smell of him makes my legs ache.
‘No,’ I say, but I’m not sure. My heart picks up pace a little. Would he? Surely not. Not here, in front of everybody?
‘Are you excited?’ Kirsty whispers, joining in our conversation.
‘He won’t do it here!’ I nudge them both. ‘Shut up.’
‘We’ve got an exciting year ahead of us,’ Dev continues, ‘and I’m sad that I won’t be able to share it with you all. But rest assured that the person filling in for me will bring just as much brilliance and originality to the table as I do.’ He winks, and laughter ripples around the room. I brace myself. If he does do it here, what will I do? I rehearse a quick speech in my head, in case he asks me up onto the stage. I pat my hair down.
‘So he is going to announce it.’ Graham looks at me from the corner of his eye, smirking.
‘No! I don’t know,’ I hiss.
‘Right, I think I’ve bored you all enough now,’ Dev blesses us with one of his crinkle-eyed smiles, a poster boy for sexy, laid-back fathers-to-be. ‘I’ll let you get back to your evenings; enjoy the free bar!’
He steps down from the stage, and my heart sinks.
Kirsty turns to me. ‘Not today, then.’
‘Not today.’ I shake my head. ‘He’ll probably do it in private, one-on-one.’
‘Yeah.’ She smiles and nudges me softly. ‘A preliminary congratulations, anyway.’
I smile back. There’ll be plenty of time for celebrating later. It’s only four weeks until Dev leaves, so it can’t be that long until I find out. I run through his roles and responsibilities in my mind; as Head of Digital Marketing, and with an impressive advertising background, it’s been obvious from the start that I’d be taking over for him once he went off on paternity leave. I’ve waited five months for the formal announcement; I can wait a few more weeks.
‘Ladies!’ Brenda has somehow broken into our circle and is leaning on Graham for support. ‘What a night, eh?’
‘It’s been a wild one, Brenda.’ Graham glances at the clock above the bar. It’s only nine o’clock.
‘Don’t suppose I’ll see as much of you once you’re running ship,’ she slurs, her eyes drifting towards me.
‘Of course you will; I’ll only be next door.’
Her eyes almost meet mine for a second, and then she sinks into one of the chairs behind us and lets her head hit the table with a soft thud.
‘Night night.’ Graham picks up a napkin and places it uselessly across her shoulders. ‘Let’s leave her to sleep it off a bit, eh?’
He gives me a look, a slight arch of his eyebrow, and I turn to Kirsty quickly. ‘I need the bathroom, you coming?’
‘Sure.’
We make our way through the tables of people, laughing and nudging each other as long-awaited romances and arguments play out in front of us, brought to light by free alcohol. Jim and Molly from accounting are finally having it out over her habit of scrambling eggs in the office microwave; Chris and Pete from sales are necking by the kitchen door. We’re sharing the room with another office party — the space half-heartedly partitioned with flimsy poster boards — and people are filtering through to cross-pollinate, inspecting the wares on the other side. Through the gap I see a table in disarray with bags and coats and empty glasses, most of its occupants dancing a few metres away, save a bearded guy and a red-faced man leaning drunkenly towards him to shout above the music.
‘Look at those two.’ Kirsty points towards the front, where Dev is stroking Eleanor’s stomach lovingly. We skirt into the ladies’ toilets and she jumps up onto the sink. ‘He’s really got it all, hasn’t he?’
‘Well, he worked hard for it.’ I reapply my lipstick in the mirror.
‘We’re all working hard.’
I snap the cap back onto my lipstick and look at her. ‘Of course we are. I guess some of us just work even harder than others.’ I was thinking of some of the newer marketing staff, who vie for promotions but don’t put in the work that merits them. But the way Kirsty’s looking at me, I can tell she’s taken it the wrong way.
‘I’m in the office ’til seven most nights,’ she says forcefully.
‘God, no, Kirst, I didn’t mean you . You’re a total powerhouse.’
‘Mmm.’
‘What’s up?’ I meet her eye through the reflection in the mirror.
‘Nothing.’ She looks away and starts turning the tap on and off. ‘I can’t believe you’ll be my boss soon.’
I laugh. ‘I’m already your boss.’
This isn’t ground we usually cover — Kirsty and I were a dual hire, coming in at the same level on the same day. She’d always seemed content to do her job while also enjoying everything outside of it. When I got promoted a couple of years ago, there was no bad blood between us; I’d forced my way onto the next rung, while she’d lived a varied, jam-packed life and stayed where she was. A steady, healthy relationship, several sports-club memberships and a fierce closeness with her family are testament to where her priorities lie. Since I took over as manager, she’s really knuckled down and the department is doing better than it ever has. I know it’s mostly because of how brilliantly we work together, how good our rapport is. How well I manage her, if I’m being completely honest.
‘Yeah, yeah, I know, but I mean really my boss. Do you think things will change?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The shift in the power dynamic. Do you reckon we’ll still be as close?’
I stop inspecting my fringe and turn to face her. ‘Of course we will. Why wouldn’t we be?’
She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. When one of you gets higher than the other...’
‘I’m already higher than you,’ I say again, and then realise how pretentious it sounds. ‘I mean, we’re already at different levels, and we’re totally fine.’
‘Yeah.’ She gives me a funny smile, but before I can decode it she’s leaning in for a hug. ‘I hope you remember that.’
I pull away, laughing. ‘Where has this come from?’
She shakes her head, throwing her hands in the air. ‘Oh, god, ignore me. It’s the champagne. Shall we go back out?’
We emerge back into the function room, and my eyes immediately seek Graham. I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t. Work and pleasure should not be combined, I know that. I tell myself every time. But it’s easy, familiar. We’ve done this dance a thousand times.
‘Whoops,’ Kirsty cackles, and I follow her eyeline. ‘Looks like we’ve got some serious mixing going on.’
Graham is wrapped around someone I don’t recognise: a pretty, blonde girl in her early twenties. She must be from the party next door. Frustration blooms in my chest. ‘Typical.’ I flash Kirsty a smile. Graham pulls away from the girl, before leaning back down to whisper in her ear. As he brushes her hair to the side, he looks up, and his eyes lock with mine.
I pull my bag up higher on my shoulder. ‘Shall we head off? I’ve got some work to do.’