Chapter 3 #2
Olivia smiles at Stephen, who she still loyally emails to congratulate every time the paper publishes an exclusive.
Joe had once described such gestures as ‘arse-licking’ but Joe wasn’t the one standing at the water cooler with the editor of The Morning now, was he.
Neither was Nina, who refused to say more than two words to Stephen because she thought he was a ‘misogynistic psychopath with all the morals of a ferret’.
Olivia almost admired this younger generation, and how entitled they all felt to a glittering career without ever having to put any of the unglamorous legwork in.
But as she had told Nina and all her other Women Rising mentees time and time again: if you wanted to get ahead, you sometimes had to swallow your pride and remember where you came from.
Well, at least Olivia was about to be rewarded for her arse-licking.
Would Joe think her ‘suburban’ when she came back to her desk as a star columnist?
Would Nina finally understand that principles counted for nothing until you actually had somewhere to voice them publicly?
All those years of being the good girl were finally going to pay off, in the most spectacular style.
‘So listen, an exciting new role has opened up in the organization, Liv, and I think you’re absolutely perfect for it.
’ Her heart hammers under her carefully curated Zara shirt.
She continues to nod, hoping that the motion will steady her.
It would be mortifying to burst into tears, here at the water cooler, when he breaks the news.
‘I’m so excited for you, Olivia, I can’t even begin to tell you how great I think this is going to be for you. It’s such an important role for The Morning.’
When is he going to get to the point? She tuts herself. She has waited this long, it won’t harm her to wait a little bit more and humour him as he delivers his big news. After all, it’s probably a pretty big moment for him too, replacing Selina Martin after thirty years.
‘So, it is with a huge amount of excitement that I want to offer you the role of …’ He drums his stubby fingers on the top of the water cooler.
Olivia beams, her gratitude shining out of her face so brightly that it could probably power the whole office, not to mention the printing presses too. ‘Anniversary Architect!’
Stephen claps and cheers.
Olivia’s mouth drops open in shock.
‘I knew you wouldn’t believe it, Liv.’ Stephen pats her on the shoulder as he laughs. ‘If you could see your face right now, my god. I knew this would be a big moment for you, but I didn’t know you’d be quite this blown away.’
Olivia feels a little like she did all those years ago in hospital, when she inadvertently heard her parents arguing about what a pain in the arse it was that her appendix had ruptured – like she’s somehow overheard something she wasn’t supposed to, a half-baked, impulsive thought that wasn’t really meant for her ears.
She needs to employ the cool, calm and collected version of herself to stave off the tears that are now taunting her contact lenses.
But all she feels is hot, liquid humiliation.
‘Anniversary Architect?’ chokes Olivia.
‘Fucking great title, don’t you think? Only the best for you, Liv.’
‘It’s … brilliant,’ lies Olivia. She’s pushing down all the sensations she doesn’t like, zoning out so that she can leave her body and the office and the whole entire universe.
‘It’s better than brilliant, Liv. You’re only in charge of our whole centenary celebration.
I’m thinking, massive fucking party, loads of celebrities, incredible venue.
Bubbles. A chocolate fountain. Fairground rides!
Brilliant pull-out, special edition, with all the best writers.
And who better to put it all together than our ANNIVERSARY ARCHITECT, LIV GREENWOOD! ’
Stephen raises his voice so that around them, various departments fall quiet.
‘So does that mean … I won’t be …’ What is happening to her?
‘Having to write any more?’ finishes Stephen. ‘Yep, no need to roll your sleeves up and get your hands dirty, Liv. You’ll be part of senior management, getting to boss everyone around.’
Olivia has wanted this job ever since she heard her mum wax lyrical about the ball-breaking writer Selina Martin as if she were a hero.
Olivia remembers one moment so clearly, just after the whole appendicitis debacle, her mother moodily reading the papers one morning, unable to go to work because Olivia had just come out of hospital and needed to be looked after.
‘I wish I could be as outspoken and articulate as Selina Martin,’ her mum moaned, the paper spread out before her on the kitchen table.
‘Imagine being a woman who just said what she thought without giving a hoot what anybody thinks!’ Olivia had watched her mum’s face light up at the very idea of it.
‘But I enjoy writing. I’ve covered a lot of stories lately while we’ve been understaffed.’ She starts chewing the inside of her mouth and scratching one of her thumbs with the other.
‘Writing is a mug’s game, Liv,’ Stephen waves her comment away.
He lowers his voice and leans in to her conspiratorially.
‘You only have to look at Selina to see that. Phoning in her copy, pissed, once a week, as if she was Barbara fucking Cartland? Her engagement was terrible, you know. It’s terrifying doing her job.
If you’re not talking directly to the people, to their hearts, they abandon you.
Your head is permanently on the fucking chopping block.
Nah, you don’t want to be writing any more, Liv.
Any old chatbot can write. Writers will be extinct in a couple of years.
’ He lets out a laugh. ‘If you want to continue the Titanic analogy, writers are basically Leonardo DiCaprio, teeth chattering in the Atlantic, clinging on for dear life to a piece of old wood while knowing that, inevitably, they are going to sink into the water and drown, while you, Liv, are Kate fucking Winslet, rescued by the Carpathia so you can continue on your journey to, if not exactly greatness, then a comfortable life that gets turned into an Oscar-winning movie by James Cameron.’
She doesn’t remind him that a moment ago, she was the conductor of the orchestra, ready to play on and go down with the ship.
‘God, Anniversary Architect,’ she nods, rearranging her face into something she hopes expresses gratitude.
At the mention of job security, she does feel a weird relief wash over her, and he’s right that she won’t be opening herself up to all that potential for criticism, all the trolling that columnists were increasingly reliant on because it meant they were keeping people on the website, even if it was just to tell them how shit they were.
‘I mean, thanks. That’s, that’s just incredible, Stephen.
I’m honoured. And, umm, does it come with, like, a pay bump at all? ’
‘Ha,’ Stephen laughs. ‘I like your gall, Liv. Always good to ask, of course, but right now we’re on a hiring and salary freeze so that won’t be possible.
I’m sure you understand.’ Olivia does recognize, somewhere deep down in her soul, that this is a complete and utter cop-out, but it’s a place she can’t quite bear to go right now.
‘But if the party comes off we can definitely have another look at your package.’
‘Thanks, Stephen. No worries. I won’t let you down.’
Stephen pats her on the shoulder. ‘I know you won’t, Liv,’ he says, tipping his forehead to her as he walks off to his office. ‘I know you won’t.’
Olivia smiles sweetly at his back. She wants to throw something at it, something hard and sharp. She stares down at her own bloody feet and her eyes shimmer. She is surprised by her rage. She takes a deep breath, swallows it down.
Olivia knows from experience that nothing good happens when you make a fuss.