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‘Are you all right, Georgie?’ Iris was outside the cubicle door now. ‘You looked quite pale out there…’
‘I…’ She clenched her eyes shut tight. ‘I think that sandwich must have disagreed with me, I feel… ill.’
‘Oh, no,’ Iris said. The concern in her voice was obvious but rather than giving Georgie the resolve she needed, it actually made her feel as if she might completely crumple. ‘Can I do anything? I could get you a glass of water, perhaps or—’
‘No. No. I’ll be fine, just give me a minute.’ Georgie was digging in her handbag, hoping to find a wet wipe to rub around the back of her neck, down her chest, on her face. Damn the make-up she’d applied earlier – better to look clean and fresh than arrive like a wrung-out panda. ‘I’ll be out in a minute, just hang on.’ She heard the door open to the offices outside, two girls arriving and going to a toilet on either side of her, continuing the conversation animatedly that they’d begun on the way.
‘Go on, tell me, I’ll never guess in a million years,’ one of them squealed. ‘Actually, hang on, is it Harry Styles?’ She shrieked with excitement before flushing the toilet and heading out towards the sinks to where Iris was waiting.
‘No. Not even close,’ the other one said. ‘No, I have to tell you; otherwise it’s going to be such a complete disappointment. It’s only Georgie Delahaye, back from the dead; Rachel just rang to say she was here.’ And Georgie couldn’t help but think that Rachel might be a total bitch after all.
‘The wicked witch from the west? I thought they’d sacked her – I mean, wasn’t that what the party was for, Paul Mellon telling us all that she was finally gone for good?’
And then, they were gone, just like that. Georgie felt like she’d been slapped. Now the hurt that she’d buried for so long beneath anger and bitterness overtook her with choking force. Suddenly, in the worst possible place and at the worst possible time, she was a sobbing bloody wreck. Her body heaved with the grief of it all. They hated her. They hated her so much, they actually had a party to celebrate her leaving! Paul Mellon had told them he’d fired her, as if he’d ever grow balls big enough to even dream about it. Hah! A million thoughts swirled within her in what felt like a maelstrom. When she finally managed to stop crying, she opened the door slowly to reveal Iris on the other side.
‘Oh, God, Georgie, I’m so, so sorry,’ Iris whispered, shaking her head and bending to put her arms around her sister.
‘What should I do now?’ Georgie asked, child-like. But of course, this was crunch time. This was her whole life’s work. It wasn’t fair to put a decision like that on Iris’s shoulders. ‘Paul wants me to come back, has made me an amazing offer. How can I say yes knowing they all hate me so much?’
‘What do youwantto do?’ Iris asked simply. Georgie had a feeling she knew what Iris wanted her to say, but was far too wise to offer an opinion that might yet turn out to reopen that wedge that had been between them for so long.
‘I don’t know.’
‘God, but they’re a pair of proper articles. I’ve a good mind to go out there and make them apologise,’ Iris said crossly, turning to the sink and wetting a wad of paper towels. She bent down and patted Georgie’s face as if she was putting out a fire.
‘Maybe, but they’re not telling any lies. When I was here, I was a different person.’ Great big walloping tears rolled down Georgie’s cheeks and she began to sob again. ‘Honestly, I was the queen bee of the lot of them here and that’s saying something, Iris. I was a complete and utter dragon – the meanest-spirited of the lot.’ She hung her head, ashamed of the person she had allowed herself to become in the blind pursuit of success.
‘I’m sure you weren’t all that bad,’ Iris said in a generous attempt at sisterly loyalty that Georgie knew she didn’t deserve.
‘We both know you’re just being kind. You weren’t here. I completely lost sight of who I was and let my ego drive me. But it didn’t make me happy; I can see that now.’
‘You’ve changed,’ Iris whispered. ‘Maybe we both have. Perhaps Dad’s idea of bringing us back to Ballycove may have been wiser than we gave him credit for that first day.’ She smiled, squeezed Georgie’s shoulder conspiratorially. ‘Come on, let’s get you sorted and then you can decide whether you go in there and give him hell or we make a run for it.’
‘God, the idea of having to pass by that bloody Rachel…’ It made Georgie shiver with a sort of humiliation and self-loathing she’d never felt before. ‘I should apologise.’
‘Don’t you bloody dare! Anyway, I bet they say a lot worse about your boss when they have a few drinks on them.’
‘Probably not, he’s the darling of everyone he meets,’ Georgie said, but it didn’t matter now. She stood up and walked to the mirror. She looked a sight, like a zombie emerging after spending too long in the special effects department.
‘Well, whatever he is, he wants you back to work as soon as you’re up for it,’ Iris said deliberately.
‘I’m not sure hewantsme back, but he needs me, probably. As I said, he’s looking to give me a better deal than before, but it’s all about clients, getting them and keeping them. It’s not really a work relationship that’s founded on much more than that…’
‘Well then, the ball really is in your court. You know that you’ve worked hard and that you’re talented enough to sit at the top of your game in this city. The question you have to ask yourself is, do you really want this life anymore?’
*
Nola loved this, sitting in the staffroom, surrounded by the chatter of her (pinch herself) colleagues. Not that the conversation was ever that riveting, but it was the camaraderie of the mundane. Hearing about a particularly troublesome first-year who managed to pull one of the oldest tricks in the book: chalk on the teacher’s chair.
‘Have you had that yet?’ Stephanie, a geography teacher who had transferred west from Dublin a few years earlier, nudged her while passing the biscuits along the line. Somehow, there was always one or two left to reach the end.
‘What’s that?’ Nola asked.
‘Kids’ tricks,’ Nigel a maths teacher on her other side said helpfully. ‘Not like when I was at school. Kids these days are nothing if not remarkably gauche in how they can bring you down.’
‘You talk like it’s guerrilla warfare.’ Nola laughed, but the idea of it made her a little nervous.
‘Oh, you don’t have to worry.’ A teacher opposite whose name Nola couldn’t remember chimed in. ‘They love you. Actually, I’d say they are pretty much in awe of you.’ She smiled at Nola. ‘I often wish I’d gone for drama rather than staid old history – the history teacher is never cool.’ They all erupted with laughter at that. ‘Still, I’m always very popular on pub quiz nights.’
