Page 56 of Last Christmas in London

A pause. Then, ‘Will do.’

The line went dead, and I was left standing there, phone in hand, unsure if I had just made everything worse, but glad I had a tiny bit more of an understanding of what Megan was going through. Her marriage was breaking down, slowly eroding, and she was afraid.

I wanted to speak to her; I was desperate to, in fact, but I knew she wouldn’t answer me.

I opened my phone to text instead when I received an email alert from Elijah at Salient Studios, my future boss, with the subject line: Getting a head start.

Hey Evie,

I hope you’re surviving the Pim Hardcastle chaos – what a whirlwind! Must be a relief knowing you’re moving on soon. We’re all so excited to have you join us in January, and I just know you’ll hit the ground running. Speaking of which, I’d love to get your thoughts on a few projects ahead of your start date. I completely understand that Pim is your current priority and, of course, you’ll want to enjoy the holidays, but if you could carve out a little time, it would make a huge difference. Plus, it’ll give you a great jump on things before January – familiarising yourself early can only make your transition smoother! I’ve attached some documents. If you could review them and send over your notes by Christmas Eve, that would be ideal. Let me know if you have any questions, though I’m sure you’ll find it all pretty straightforward.

Looking forward to officially having you on board! And don’t forget to book that travel insurance, flights are a nightmare this time of year.

Best, Elijah

Great, I thought, putting my phone back into my back pocket. More work.

Not only did I have Pim to manage, organising the recruitment of her new assistant, and dealing with Megan, Alex, and Josh’s drama/silent treatment. And now, Salient wanted me to get a ‘head start’.

It wasn’t just the extra tasks that made my stomach sink, it was the tone. The assumption that I’d be eager and grateful, even knowing how complicated things were with Pim – and always were with Pim. Maybe they believed chaos was something that didn’t impact me because I’d built a reputation for handling it while working with Salient.

When I heard I had got my first job with Pim, I couldn’t wait to get started. Sure, I had just graduated from university and was grateful for the job, but there was an anticipation to get started that only comes with a new job or a new opportunity.

There was no such feeling with Salient, not right now. It didn’t feel like possibility, it was starting to feel like an obligation. Like a mistake I hadn’t quite admitted to yet.

Instead of anticipation and excitement, there was a low, persistent dread. It didn’t feel like a door opening so much as another set of expectations snapping quietly into place. Another role where I’d be competent and agreeable and endlessly adaptable, where my ability to cope would be mistaken for enthusiasm.

The more I tried to tell myself this was what I wanted, the more it began to feel like an obligation.

I wasn’t imagining a future in Toronto with any real clarity, just bracing myself for it. For being good at something without ever asking whether it was actually making me happy.

And the most unsettling part wasn’t the dread itself. It was how familiar it felt.

I’d spent years of my life with Pim, moving forward without stopping to check whether the direction still made sense. Not until I applied for Salient, and even that was because I felt I had the best shot of getting a job, not a job I really wanted.

I hadn’t let myself fully sit with that truth until now.

I heard the ding of another email arriving in my inbox. Followed by two more. Apparently, Elijah’s ‘few projects’ were more like an avalanche.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead.

Could I ever catch a break?

Chapter 18

Walking in London at Christmas was something I thought would be a nightmare. The late-night shoppers, the tourists taking photos of the city lit up in neon, and the early drunken revellers falling out of pubs from the office Christmas parties. Yet somehow, despite the chaos, I’d found it was one of my favourite ways to unwind.

There were only five days left until Christmas Eve, and Pim’s event. We had officially sold out of tickets, helped in part due to the added publicity from the viral video that was slowly dying a death online, and the TV company was thrilled to finally get the go-ahead with scheduling and were making a song and dance about it in all the popular TV magazines. Pim’s photoshoots increased as digital journalists and broadcast newspapers asked for features and interviews to be shared pre- and post- the event. And through my intervention – cashing in a lot of favours – we were able to minimise the noise on the Michael Holland debacle.

Pim’s star was shining bright, yet her tunnel vision was still in full force.

‘I need you to meet your new assistant,’ I had insisted that afternoon, standing beside Pim in yet another make-up chair as she got primped for a Christmas photoshoot for The Times.

‘Possible new assistant,’ she corrected, dabbing powder off her cheeks.

I had to stop myself from snapping. Unless she wanted to hire someone herself, during Christmas Alison was her new assistant. Or she would be assistantless.

‘You’re going to love her,’ I said, deciding to move ahead with plans for an afternoon-tea meeting between them next week.