‘No.’ Carla scanned the office to make sure no one was listening. ‘I’ve been seeing Yale,’ she said.
Vicky’s brow furrowed. ‘Okay, it’s frowned on but it’s hardly a reason for HR to get involved.’
‘There’s more.’ Hurriedly she explained what had happened at the party.
‘What a rotter!’ Vicky looked furious.
‘Rotter?’
‘I’m trying not to swear. I don’t want the baby to hear.’
‘No, of course not.’ Carla straightened her shoulders. ‘Wish me luck.’
‘I bet it’s about something else and not about that at all,’ Vicky replied, trying to reassure her, but her tone lacked conviction.
Carla was expecting to see Yale in Mrs Bissett’s office and was thankful when he wasn’t. Still, she was nevertheless alarmed when the HR Manager informed her that an assistant would sit in on the meeting to make notes.
After being invited to sit down, Mrs Bissett explained the purpose of the meeting.
Carla struggled to take it in. The words ‘allegation’, ‘misconduct’ and ‘investigation’ lodged in her head, swirling around as she tried to make sense of them.
And when Mrs Bissett said, ‘Possible disciplinary action,’ Carla felt tears well up and threaten to spill over.
‘I can’t… It’s not… It wasn’t like that!’ she blurted. ‘If he’s told you that I threw myself at him, he’s lying. We’ve been seeing each other for the past month. As boyfriend and girlfriend.’ As soon as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. How could he beherboyfriend when he was committed to another woman?
Hopelessly, not expecting to be believed, she continued, ‘He’s only saying that because his fiancée caught us together.’ Oh, that sounded so bad when she said it out loud, even if it was the truth. Feeling the need to explain, she added, ‘I didn’t know he was engaged, honestly I didn’t. He never told me, otherwise I wouldn’t have…’ She trailed off.
‘May I stop you there, Carla. You’ll have the opportunity to put your side of the story at a later date. This is just an informal chat to make you aware there has been a complaint and that you are under investigation. Furthermore, as you work in the same department as the complainant, I’m afraid we’ll have to transfer you until matters are resolved one way or another.’
Close to tears, Carla tried to work out what she meant by ‘one way or another.’ And when she heard that she was beingtransferred to sales, which she had little experience of and even less enthusiasm for, she was unable to contain her dismay. The tears she had been so valiantly trying to hold back, spilled over and trickled down her cheeks as she began to sob.
It wasn’t fair!Shewasn’t the one in the wrong, yet she was being punished for it.
At the sight of her distress, Mrs Bissett showed a modicum of compassion and sent her home for the rest of the day. As far as Carla was concerned, it was the least they could do.
And the way she was feeling right now, they’d be lucky if she showed up tomorrow. Or ever again!
Carla stared at her phone’s screen, seeing the concern on her mum’s face.
‘Have you spoken to anyone? Taken some advice?’ her mum asked.
Carla nodded. It was mid-afternoon in Birmingham, seven in the morning in the Caribbean, which was where her mother currently was. She worked as a holiday rep for Silver Sands Getaways and, as the name suggested, she got away a lot. During the summer, Carla hardly ever saw her. She didn’t see her all that often in the winter months, either.
The arrangement suited them both, especially since Carla still lived at home. At thirty years of age, she felt that she should have a place of her own, so this was the next best thing. Considering she didn’t have a whopping great mortgage aroundher neck, it was probably better. The benefit for her mum was that the house was occupied whilst she was away.
Right this minute, Carla wished her mum was here, despite her not being able to do anything other than give her a cuddle and some moral support.
‘I’ve spoken to my union rep,’ Carla replied. She’d had a long conversation with a lovely man called Charlie, who had basically told her not to panic. But how could she not panic? She could lose her job over this, and the thought of going to work tomorrow, into a different department and doing something she was overqualified for, made her feel ill.
What was worse was that even if her colleagues didn’t know what had gone on, rumours would be rife and she didn’t think she could face the whispers behind her back and the speculative looks. If she had been allowed to remain at her own desk, she might have been able to ride it out. But not as things currently stood.
Her voice breaking, she said, ‘I can’t go back there.’
‘Then don’t.’
‘But Ihaveto. I can’t resign. It would be seen as an admission of guilt.’
‘I’m not suggesting you resign,’ her mum said. ‘I’m suggesting you take a leave of absence until this blows over.’
