‘Alison, I could have simply fired you in an email. However, I was very .?.?. let’s just say, put out personally by your action.Just to clarify: imagine somebody sets off a bomb in their office and then they see the damage they’ve done, would you think it’s enough for them to just apologise and take it all back?’
Another silence. Oh dear, he was actually expecting an answer.
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s too late.’
‘And?’
‘The damage is already done.’
‘Exactly. Now please clear your desk and leave your lanyard there – your access to the building has been revoked. That’s all.’
With that, he dropped his gaze and immediately turned his attention to another task, making her feel more worthless than she had ever felt in her life.
Fighting back tears, she crept out of the CEO’s office, trying to take up as little space as possible, past his PA without meeting her gaze and straight to her desk, hoping to God she could get cleared and gone before running into too many people. It was 8.07 a.m.
There wasn’t much to pack into a plastic carrier bag: Mavis, her money plant, a pen holder in the shape of a porcupine and a photo of her parents at her graduation. Not much to show for more than five years of her life. And now she was leaving her beige cubicle to somebody else and soon nobody would even remember she’d worked there. Except Rosemarie, and maybe Crystal, if she needed a favour.
A bit like life, she thought. A lot of fuss for not much in the end.
Chapter 2
‘Yeah, Ally, but you know why he’s going all gangbusters on this?’
Rosemarie’s voice on the phone was at least keeping her company. She was walking from the Luas stop towards the office while Ally was shuffling onto the tram against the stream of workers going in the opposite direction.
‘Does it even matter at this stage?’
‘It does. He knows right well. He knows he’s a stingy fucker and you pointed it out to the whole place so now he has to stamp on you.’
‘Rosie, when did being right ever matter? It’s whoever has the power. Being right doesn’t count for shit.’
‘Even still. Look, I’m coming to the office now. Quick, tell me about William. You snogged him .?.?. Go, girl. Well, is he a good kisser? Tongues? I’d say he knows how to handle himself. He has that cocky vibe.’
A woman across from Ally did a double take then pretended not to be listening.
‘I’m .?.?. er .?.?. on the train, talk to you later.’
And that was it, Ally was alone.
* * *
So, what do you do at 9.15 on a Friday morning, when you’re carrying the contents of your desk in a bag and going in the opposite direction to the rest of the world? It felt far too early to face her untidy apartment with its unmade bed. She couldn’t face the department stores downtown with their well-to-do customers, and even the cinemas didn’t open till noon. She found herself wandering along Smithfield Square towards home, gazing at the cafés and small shops as she passed. She found herself drawn towards one, not because it looked as smart or as trendy as some of the others, with their minimalist décor and chic slate-grey exteriors, but because it was the opposite. It had a bright-red awning and glass door with a canary-yellow surround that seemed to smile out at the street. The Owl’s Nest was the name above the door. Well, it should have been, but somebody was in the process of painting it, so it currently readOw(which perfectly matched her mood), with the rest in marker, even though it was coloured more like a parrot’s nest. It sounded to her like a refuge, somewhere a long way from dreary reality. She pushed open the door and stepped into the warm aroma of fresh coffee and cinnamon and yeast baking. The white noise of the coffee steamer drowned out the thoughts in her head for a moment, and she felt her shoulders drop as she plonked her bag on a table by the wall and made her way to the counter.
A gaunt but kind-looking man in his forties approached her and asked what she’d like. Suddenly, she realised that she hadn’t spoken to anyone in person since that awful meeting with Con and felt a surge of gratitude for his simple friendliness. She stared at the hot-drinks menu blankly and goldfished for a moment before they started to make sense.
‘Large latte, extra hot,’ she burbled at last. Feck the expense and the calories. ‘And one of those scones, please.’
She pointed to a mound of crumbly glazed berry scones behind the glass counter, straight out of the oven, faint steamstill rising off them.
‘And sure, why wouldn’t you?’ He smiled. ‘Go ahead, I’ll drop it down to you.’
Ally felt a sudden lump in her throat. Quick, turn around, sit down and don’t be a big eejit, bawling in a café because someone was pleasant to a customer, she scolded herself. She settled into one of the cushioned chairs, took out her phone for camouflage and tried to examine it intently, despite the fact that everything was blurred from tears. Her chin was quivering uncontrollably. Oh crap, this was a full-on rummage-in-your-bag moment to disguise the sob because you’d just been horribly fired from your five-year job so that you wouldn’t even get a proper reference and God only knew what the future was going to hold.
After she’d spent a few minutes rooting around in her bag like a hyperactive gerbil, the pleasant guy dropped down her order. ‘There you are now, enjoy.’
