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‘You can pretend you don’t know what I’m talking aboutas much as you like, but we both know it’s true. You’ve been badly hurt, Georgie, and you haven’t taken the time to heal, you haven’t even tried to rebuild those bridges again.’
‘You really want to know the truth?’ It was gone; that steely cold reserve had cracked and there was no stopping the anger shooting through. ‘The truth is, I told my sister Iris that her husband was stealing from our father’s distillery and she chose to believe him over me. I probably pushed them together more than they had been before and after that she wanted nothing to do with me. She followed him out of Ballycove and that was that.’
‘And Nola?’
‘Nola.’ Georgie thought of her youngest, sweetest sister sadly and then she remembered how things had turned out between them. ‘Nola asked for my help and then she threw it back in my face. She found fame and fortune and friends in London and that was the last I’ve heard from her.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sylvia said. ‘I know this is painful, but, Georgie, can’t you see that the people you’re working with may want a more inclusive work environment? They may want a workplace that’s…’ she paused for a moment as if considering her next word carefully ‘…harmonious. And that’s about having good relationships, everyone being part of the team.’
‘You don’t make the grade with harmony. You get results with hard work, with stretching people beyond what they thought they were capable of, not by mollycoddling them.’ Georgie scoffed. But even as she said it, a memory came back to her. It was a few years ago. She’d been off work for a few weeks with double pneumonia. It was one of those stupid things; she’d been sicker than she thought and hadn’t stopped. She was far too busy to make time in her schedule to see the doctor and ended up in ICU.
When she’d eventually made her way back into the office, she’d decided to get an early start. She’d turned up at four-thirty in the morning to find the office transformed, the desks pushed back and the space between them empty as if freed up for dancing. It took her almost an hour to get those desks all pushed back into place again. By the time the first of her colleagues turned up for work, she had the place looking spick and span again and though everyone welcomed her back, even at the time she could tell that behind their words she detected something else. Was it disappointment? Resentment? She found out later they’d been having daily yoga sessions organised by one of the young interns.
‘Har-bloody-monious.’ She felt the word fall in a whisper from her lips.
‘Yes, Georgie, harmonious,’ Sylvia repeated, and there was a note of guarded triumph in her voice.
‘So, say you’re right and what Paul wanted all along was not someone who pushed people to reach their full potential – how can I still manage to get my job back from CBD boy before it’s all set in stone?’
‘I’m not sure you can,’ Sylvia said. ‘And I’m not sure you should even try. It may be that there’s something far better you could be doing with your time.’
Georgie raised her eyebrows. ‘Like worming dogs in Battersea, I suppose?’
‘If it gives you joy, then maybe.’ Sylvia picked a stray thread from her skirt and laid it carefully on the arm of her chair.
‘Well, it doesn’t. The only thing that gives me joy is the idea that I’ve got what I deserve fair and square.’
‘What you deserve is a very ambiguous thing. For example, a child might deserve pudding for doing some particular good deed, but if the child is overweight, pudding might be the last thing he needs.’ She smiled, as if Georgie might somehow find this analogy helpful. It was infuriating.
‘I’m not a child and I have zero desire for pudding.’ Georgie looked out the window and she knew, even as her eyes skipped across the various wind chimes and bird feeders that covered the sickeningly sweet lilac block work opposite, she sounded just like a child. And worse, she sounded like the sort of child she’d always detested: petulant, spoiled and whingey. Had the years turned her from single-minded to downright obstinate? No, she was determined, that’s all. They wouldn’t be saying all this about a man, would they? A surge of fury coursed through her.
‘All I’m saying is that your company have given you a fantastic opportunity. Of course, you can stay and continue to do exactly what you’ve always done, but it’s not making you happy.’
‘Itismaking me happy,’ Georgie retorted, feeling the exact opposite of happy.
‘But, Georgie, don’t you remember our first sessions? Why you came here?
‘That’s not relevant to this at all.’ Georgie stopped her. ‘You have no right to bring that up now. It was a completely separate incident and that airy-fairy mediator only sent me here because the company wanted to wriggle out of having to make a payout to a disgruntled ex-employee.’
‘You really believe that’s why you came here? A paper exercise to reduce your employer’s liability?’ Sylvia sighed, as if they were trudging up a hill and there was no chance of ever reaching the summit. So much for being an expert at neutrality. ‘Georgie?’
Silence stretched out between them. Georgie glanced at her watch as if she didn’t know exactly how long was left in this session. At this point, she was expected to say something agreeable, conciliatory even, but she was damned if she was eating any more humble pie today. ‘You’re just twisting things about to suit yourself. You think you can convince me I actually need to be here? None of this is exactly rocket science. It’s easy to see – it’s a boys’ club and I’m on the outside, and—’
‘Maybe you’re right, but I have a feeling that being on the outside is something you’ve created all by yourself and it has as much to do with the past as it has with the present.’
Georgie had a feeling all this woman wanted was a reaction. She wanted to see her shout, or cry or maybe –and this was the most unlikely outcome – to agree with her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh, come on, Georgie, you’ve always skirted past any mention of anything beyond work.’
‘That’s right.’ There was no way Sylvia was getting her claws on the fact that Georgie hadn’t had a proper relationship since she’d left Ballycove all those years ago. There had been flings, casual affairs, but nothing that stuck. The only man in her life was her father and for now, that suited her just fine. ‘Moving on.’ She glared at the woman opposite. ‘What would you suggest I do now?’
‘Anything you want.’ Sylvia smiled. ‘Open a goat farm in the outer Hebrides, start up a B&B back in Ireland, buy yourself a sizeable chunk of London property and live off the rent – it’s entirely up to you! But do something that gives you real joy.’ She stopped for a moment, gauging Georgie’s blank expression and perhaps realising that this was too radical a proposal for her. ‘Why not start by taking a holiday? Just a little break away from London, somewhere to clear your mind and set your refresh button. It would do you the world of good, I promise.’
‘Well, if you feel that strongly about it, I’ll do it; it’s the first time you’ve ever told me to do anything that wasn’t an open question.’ Georgie harrumphed. She would go on holiday. She would pack up her life for two weeks and escape to somewhere with sun and sea and lots of alcohol – so much alcohol that she would wipe Sandstone and Mellon clear out of her mind for fourteen solid days.
It was only as she left the consulting rooms that she saw the missed call on her phone. Ireland. She rang back immediately and was answered by an unfamiliar woman’s voice.
‘Ah, Georgie, thank you so much for calling back. I’m Lucy Nolan and I’ve recently taken over the Ballycove doctor’s surgery from Dr O’Shea.’ There was a pause at the other end of the line, and Georgie had the sudden urge to hang up, to stop this woman saying whatever it was she had called to say. ‘I’m so sorry to tell you that your father passed away during the night. It was peaceful…’ She went on speaking; her voice soft, measured, kind, but Georgie didn’t hear the words. All she knew was that her father had died alone while she was tossing and turning, worrying about things that suddenly didn’t matter.
