Page 2 of The Twilight Garden

At exactly ten minutes to eleven, Gemma smoothed down her skirt, straightened her blouse and pushed open the door to Leonard Associates. It had been a while since she’d worn clothes like these but, once upon a time, they had been her uniform. The kind successful women wore. The kind which meant she was taken seriously, which told the world she had her shit together. The scruffy sweatshirts and baggy leggings of the last year would no longer have a place in her wardrobe – her team were just about to meet their new creative director and she would not be found wanting.

She’d been impressed by the building’s foyer when she’d attended her interview. It was sleek and expensive-looking and had a reassuring air of calm purpose. Today, however, although admittedly still moving with purpose, none of the people who filled the atrium looked particularly relaxed or composed. Perhaps her previous visit had simply been on a quiet day. But then again, if they were working on a big project, if the deadlines were especially tight… Gemma’s stomach turned another somersault. How she had missed this – the hustle and bustle, the adrenaline rush, the buzz when it all came together last-minute. She could do this. She absolutely could. She’d been almost at the top of her game – almost, but not quite – and here, finally, was her opportunity to get there.

Pausing to let two women scurry past, their arms laden with files, Gemma crossed the echoing tiled floor and approached the glossy reception desk. The young woman who sat there was on the phone and Gemma smiled graciously, taking a couple of steps back so she could finish her conversation unpressured by Gemma’s presence. She looked strangely harried as it was.

Gemma occupied herself by staring up at the atrium’s lofty ceiling, the centre of which rose in a glass column high above them affording small glimpses into the upper floors of the building. Gemma wondered idly where her office would be – presumably somewhere near the top. That was how it usually worked. She ran her tongue over the front of her teeth and surreptitiously adjusted a button on her blouse.

‘May I help you?’

Gemma spun around to face the receptionist, wearing her friendliest smile. ‘Hi, yes, I’m here to meet Neil McPherson. I’m Gemma Rowlands.’ She kept her smile firmly in place even though the receptionist’s own was slipping.

‘Erm, Neil?’

‘Yes, Neil McPherson. He’s head of the creative department…’ She faltered at the look on the receptionist’s face. ‘I’m going to be working with him.’

The receptionist looked down at her phone and then over Gemma’s shoulder, to the wide-open space behind her. She gave a nervous smile. ‘I know who Neil is, it’s just… Um, Neil doesn’t work here any more.’

Gemma frowned.

‘So I’m not really sure where to direct you and I…’ She looked at her phone again. ‘Perhaps you’d like to take a seat and I’ll see if I can get someone to come and speak with you.’

Gemma regarded the arrangement of bright orange fabric cubes to one side of the desk – modular and uncomfortable, the kind which really didn’t put you at your ease. She lowered herself onto one, the receptionist’s words echoing through her head. I’ll get someone to come and speak with you… Someone? What did that mean? Gemma had no idea what could have happened, but if she couldn’t see Neil, presumably it would be his successor, or someone else from the department where she would be working – someone from her new team. But whatever happened to the warm greeting she’d been anticipating? Gemma, hi, how lovely to meet you. Welcome to Leonard Associates. We’re so pleased to have you joining us. This didn’t feel welcoming at all. The turbulence in her stomach notched up a gear.

By the time a high-heeled pair of shoes clicked their way across the foyer towards her, Gemma was beginning to feel faint, her anxiety levels reaching the point where the rest of the world started to pale from view. The owner of the heels approached the desk and bent low, exchanging a few murmured words with the receptionist. She shook her head – once, twice – and then again for a third time before straightening and turning towards Gemma.

‘Hi, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’

‘It’s Gemma. Gemma Rowlands. I’m starting work today. I was meant to be meeting with Neil McPherson, only I gather he’s no longer working here?’

‘No, he’s… gone. My name’s Andrea, I’m head of HR.’ She pulled a face. ‘Or at least…’ She sat down next to Gemma. ‘I have no idea what I am any more. None of us do.’ She stared unseeing across the hall.

Gemma felt as though she’d just walked onto the set of a movie, one taking place in some dystopian future where clearly there’d been a great calamity that only she remained unaware of. She cleared her throat. It was obviously important that she remain professional, but Andrea’s expression was nothing short of bleak, and Gemma had a sudden urge to hug her. ‘Has something happened?’

Andrea sighed. ‘You could say that.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘I don’t know how to say this, but there isn’t a job for you here. Not now. Whatever you agreed with Neil was before… the bloody mess we’re in.’ She shook her head, angry now. ‘I’m head of HR. I should know all about you but as I clearly don’t…’ She softened her expression a little. ‘I’m sorry, because if I had known you were coming today, I could have saved you a journey.’

‘I don’t understand…’

Andrea looked over her shoulder, opened her mouth and then closed it again, a series of expressions crossing her face as she tussled with some inward dilemma. Then her lips drew into a long thin line.

‘Sod this,’ she said. ‘I’m not really sure it matters what I say any more and I’m not sure I even care, so I’m going to tell you it like it is. Neil McPherson isn’t here because two weeks ago he was fired for gross misconduct, not that anyone gives a stuff about that now. He was leaving anyway – to set up his own agency – and he was fired because he’d been discovered talking to clients behind our backs in order to take them with him when he went. The reason behind this completely unethical behaviour was way above my pay grade, apparently, but this morning became abundantly clear when the company went into administration.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Gemma frowned.

‘The receivers have been called in. Leonard Associates is bust.’

‘It can’t be.’ Gemma stared at her, words floating out of her mouth although she couldn’t seem to recall saying them. ‘I need this job.’

‘Yeah, you and me both. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you were expecting but⁠—’

‘No, you don’t understand. I need this job. It’s meant to be a new start for me and I’m renting a flat just around the corner. I’m moving in next week, for God’s sake. I’ve sent in all my paperwork to Neil, he’s had copies of my ID and…’ She fished out her phone from her bag and frantically began scrolling through her emails. ‘Look. I’m supposed to arrive today, at eleven o’clock, to go through the rest of the onboarding process – have a tour, meet the team… I’ve even been wondering which bloody office was going to be mine.’ She indicated the view above them.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘And if Neil knew what was coming, if he was leaving himself, why on earth did he hire me?’

Andrea shook her head. ‘I have no idea.’

Gemma stared at her. This was bad. Really bad. She took a steadying breath. ‘Sorry, I know this is not your fault, but he gave me a job, so he can damn well keep his word. If I can’t work for him here, I’ll go and work for him wherever he is. You must have a number for him. I’m sure if I call him…’