Callie and Rona arrived, and Callie didn’t look remotely like someone who’d just dodged a photographer’s bullet.
‘I’m sure I’ll have to talk to someone from a newspaper one day,’ she said ruefully.
‘I promise he’s gone,’ said Sam.
‘And I promise you I am not writing about this, any of this. On ...’ Ginger cast about for something suitable. ‘On my mother’s grave,’ she said slowly.
Sam and Callie exchanged glances.
‘I believe you,’ said Callie cheerfully. ‘As the older woman here and the one who has gone through hell these last few months, ladies, I’d say you need to see that grave.’
Sam nodded. ‘Not today, maybe, but one day?’
Ginger nodded back. ‘I think you’re right.’
‘If I’ve learned anything this year, because I’ve a baby daughter, India’ – Sam’s face glowed with pride – ‘it’s that you have to confront the past to move on.’
‘Snap,’ said Callie wryly. ‘Or if the past bites you, you have to learn how to let go and live with yourself.’
‘Or forget about all the people who hurt you because there’s nothing to be gained from thinking about them,’ interrupted Ginger. ‘You have to move on.’
‘Moving on,’ they all agreed.
‘But first,’ Callie went to the door. ‘Biscuits.’
Ginger
Ginger pulled herself up to her full height. She wore high heels a lot now. Funny that she never wore them before, but wearing flat boots had somehow fitted in with the type of person who didn’t want to be seen as feminine. Didn’t want to be girly. Because trying to be girly would admit that she wasn’t girly – that she was tall and big and that no man would ever want her. After her heartbreak with Will, she wasn’t sure if she wanted a man anymore. She’d enough self-respect to live with that. To deal with that.
So what if Zac kept eyeing her up and had once, in deep embarrassment, muttered that he couldn’t remember much of their night.
‘Maybe some other time, Zac,’ said Ginger, ‘but you know, I worry that other people might not like us dating. It might appear unethical.’
Unethical was a magical word when it came to office politics, and Zac had nodded.
‘Yeah,’ he said, adjusting his collar automatically.
Ginger had to stop herself grinning every time she saw him. And as for Will – Will was in the past. Another lesson. Was there a set limit to the number of lessons a person had to learn before the lessons stopped? She really hoped there was.
Going live with her Girlfriend column, saying who she really was, coming out from behind the screen – that was what she was meant to do and, finally, she was ready for it, so ready for it.
The morning after Ballyglen, she’d walked into Alice Jeter’s office and said she wanted to stop hiding behind the Girlfriend pseudonym.
‘I want to run a platform where people can be who and what they want.’
Alice’s eyes had lit up.
‘Finally!’
Alice had made an offer that would change Ginger’s life. It had taken the trip to Ballyglen for her to see it: she had let the past hurt her and she had things in her past she’d never dealt with. It was time for a change, many changes.
With two columns on two e-sites, and a series of TV and YouTube ads Alice was planning, there was a campaign being set up for her to be a figurehead for helping people. And Ginger didn’t feel scared; she felt invigorated and happy. She knew her family were thrilled for her. She hoped her two new friends, Callie and Sam, were thrilled for her too.
Now, Ginger didn’t knock, but just walked into Carla’s office.
‘Yes,’ snapped Carla, looking up, surprised.
If Ginger didn’t know any better, she would have sworn that Carla was playing Candy Crush on her phone. That was a waste of company time.
