‘I can’t say. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry.’
That didn’t sound good but I gave her a weak smile of thanks and followed her into the offices. How a lovely woman like Belinda had managed to stick it out working for a man like Ross Langley for over a decade was beyond me. I was struggling after only three months.
I knocked on his door and pushed it open. Ross was looking out of his office window with his fingers laced behind his back.
‘You wanted to see me?’
‘Yes. Sit down,’ he commanded in his clipped Home Counties accent.
I sat in one of the two chairs on the other side of his desk.
‘When I assumed control of Silvervale, I kept the staff on out of the goodness of my heart,’ he said, still with his back to me. ‘In fairness, you’ve all been reasonable.’
Reasonable? High praise indeed!
‘I wasn’t convinced by you, though.’
My stomach lurched. Was he saying I wasn’t good at my job? Surely not.
‘Or, rather, I wasn’t convinced by what you do.’ He finally turned around and fixed his eyes on mine. ‘Equine-assisted therapy? I thought it was a fad – woke gibberish – but, against my better judgement, I gave it a go. It’s not working.’
‘But I kept all my clients and I’ve introduced new?—’
‘Did I say I was finished?’
I flinched at the volume of his voice. ‘Sorry. Continue.’
‘As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, it’s not working having you here. We offer many equestrian services and we excel in them but we’re not a heavy horse breeding programme or a counselling practice. I’ve found a buyer for the Shire and the Clydesdale.’
My stomach lurched once more. So this was what Belinda was sorry for. He was selling those beautiful horses and I was getting my marching orders.
Ross sat down, placed his elbows on his desk and steepled his hands under his chin. ‘I’m letting you go with immediate effect. Belinda has cancelled all your clients and I’ll give you one month’s pay in lieu of notice. This isn’t up for discussion. You can leave now.’
I pushed my chair back and stood up, battling with my emotions. It broke my heart to be leaving behind the horses, my lovely former colleagues from Silvervale and Jude. But I couldn’t be more relieved to be walking away from Ross Langley. I wanted to give him some feedback on his management style but he was not the sort of man who’d respond positively to constructive criticism. The equestrian world was too small and leaving under a cloud wouldn’t do me any favours.
‘Thank you for giving me a chance,’ I said. ‘Would you mind if I said goodbye to the horses?’
‘Do what you like, but don’t distract my staff.’
* * *
I pulled up onto the drive back home an hour or so later and sat there, feeling too numb to turn off the engine and exit the car. My eyes were burning from the many tears I’d shed. Saying goodbye to my colleagues had been hard but saying goodbye to the horses had broken me. The bond we’d built up, the trust we had in each other, the gift of healing they’d brought to my clients over the years. As I’d stroked and hugged each of them I’d felt as though they knew it was the last time they’d see me and that their hearts were breaking like mine. I didn’t care that I’d lost my job but I cared that I’d lost them, so very deeply.
I’m not sure how long I sat there, tears streaming down my cheeks, but my phone ringing snapped me out of my trance. A local number showed on the screen and I wiped my eyes with my sleeve before connecting the call.
‘Grace Coates speaking.’
‘Hi, Mrs Coates, it’s Sarah-Jane from Finchley Underwood,’ a chirpy woman said. ‘I have some fabulous news for you. The couple who came for a second viewing at the weekend have put an offer in for your house…’
I sank back into the car seat after the call ended and closed my eyes. So this was really happening. The beautiful forever home that Laurie and I had moved into shortly before Maddie started primary school was no longer forever. Just like my marriage. Just like my job. Did nothing last?
Maddie had saidnothing about today’s gonna be goodand my day was panning out that way too. Thank you, Friday the 13th, for adding to the shitshow my life had become.
2
‘Morning, sunshine,’ Mam said, smiling at me as I joined her in her kitchen–diner three days later, still wearing my pyjamas and dressing gown despite it being almost half nine. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Like a log. I can’t remember the last time I had a lie-in.’
