“Well then, maybe we can turn that to our advantage.”
“How?”
“Abby’s a decent person. She made a bad choice, but I suppose it’s not much of a choice if the boss is also your mother. She could have resigned on principle I suppose, but this is her mother so that’s going to mean a lot of awkward Sunday lunches. The way I see it, if she’s feeding stuff to her mother, we need to make sure she’s feeding the right things.”
“It’s too late for that. She’s already sent feedback,” Evie said. “And I feel bad. This is all my fault. Or at least, a large part of it is my fault.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I’m the acting general manager. I saw how thingswere from the first day I took over, but I haven’t managed to turn things around. I’ve let you all down.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true. I thought it would be great stepping up and managing this place. It’s what I’ve always wanted. I had loads of ideas at the beginning, but I have totally failed to put any of them into practice. I wrote a memo and no one even read it, and that’s on me. Her report will probably say that I don’t know how to get people to take me seriously, and an effective general manager needs the respect of the staff. And she’s right. Someone more experienced should step into the role and I should move aside. That would be best for everyone.”
There was a long pause and then Donna stood up. “I’m glad you told me this. I wish you’d told me sooner. I remember the memo, but I thought they were just ideas you’d been having. I didn’t understand what was at stake. I’m pretty sure the others didn’t understand either. That’s on us.”
No, Evie thought, it was on her. She hadn’t been direct enough, she saw that now.
She’d sent the memo because it had seemed easier to email people. She’d been afraid to act like the boss, always conscious that most of the staff were older than her and had known her forever. It felt like overstepping. She’d had no idea how to handle her new position or them, but instead of learning and dealing with it, she’d hidden away. She’d addressed things in a roundabout way and hadn’t been direct. She’d hoped that by sending the memo it might be enough to persuade people to change what they were doing. But it had been a type of avoidance. She should have done it in person. She should have been straight with them. That’s what a leader would do, and she was supposed to be a leader.
“Donna?” She stopped her colleague before she could reachthe door. “Ask everyone to come to the conference room at midday. I’m going to talk to them.”
Donna nodded approval. “Good plan. I’ll do that.”
She turned and left the room, leaving Evie feeling over-whelmed by a sense of responsibility.
15
Abby
She’d ruined everything.
On balance maybe it was better not to care about your colleagues, because then when things went wrong it didn’t hurt so much.
Abby sat in her room staring at the wall. She had no idea how she’d made it through the day. She’d felt terrible physically, and even worse emotionally.
The conversation with Evie had left her drained and exhausted. She’d been unable to defend herself because everything Evie had said had been true up to a point. She’d been unable to make excuses because there weren’t any. They thought she was a liar, and she was. She deserved every accusation they’d thrown at her. They despised her, which wasn’t a surprise.
She could justify her choices in any number of ways, but in the end there was no escaping the truth.
She was thirty-two years old and still trying to please her mother.
Pathetic. Also, a thankless task because there was no pleasing her mother.
The heat in the attic room was oppressive and she ran her hand over the back of her neck, freeing her damp hair, but there was no relief to be found. For the first time since she’d arrived in Cornwall she wished she was back in Boston, in her own apartment. She longed for the frigid air conditioning, and also the anonymity. There, the atmosphere was so sterile she frequently forgot she had neighbours. She’d met the woman who lived next door on one occasion since she’d moved in the year before and that was when a fire alarm had sounded in the middle of the night, causing them both to collide in the corridor. Other than that, she might as well have been the sole person on a planet.
But here in the Smuggler’s Inn? The whole place was alive. Laughter floated up from the street and trickled through the windows. She heard the sound of seagulls and the tinkle of masts. And she heard sounds coming from the pub below. The occasional thud, the waft of laughter from the bar far beneath her and occasionally Tristan’s deep voice communicating with someone outside.
She longed to go for a walk, if not for fresh air (it was stifling!) then at least to clear her head, but she was too afraid of bumping into someone who would berate her.
She should be used to it, shouldn’t she? She should be used to being unpopular. Not one of the cool girls. The outsider. The one left alone in the playground. She’d made peace with that. She’d learned to distance herself. She’d reminded herself that they were just being mean and she didn’t deserve it.
But this time she deserved it.
Why did it bother her? Why was the approval of this particular group of people so important to her?
The answer was simple, of course. Because she’d grown to like them. Respect them. And they’d made her part of their team. She’d worked with close-knit groups before, but she’d always been on the outside. No one had ever let her in.
