Page 8 of The Christmas Star

‘I mean, how can I not? Every other TV ad, newspaper article and podcast is perimenopause this, perimenopause that. Your time of life has spawned its own industry.’

A tic pulsated in my neck and struggling to even look at the man for fear of saying something I’d regret, my gaze fell on the gilt-framed photo of Rory’s wife that sat on his desk. Taking in her bright smile, I pitied the woman. One because she was married to an idiot and two because at some point in the future, she would be me. She’d be molten one minute, shivering in the next. Rubbing her back against a wall to tackle an unexplained itch that she can’t quite reach. Tormented by a lack of sleep, she’d question her mental ability when the simplest of words wouldn’t form and yes, she’d end a call to a colleague with words of affection.

‘What happened to just getting on with it?’

I stared at Rory, wondering how anyone could wear that degree of ignorance with such pride. ‘I feel the same when I see a Viagra ad,’ I said, giving him an exaggerated eye roll. ‘You’re impotent. Who cares? Stop your whining.’

Rory cleared his throat and loosened his collar. ‘That’s hardly the same thing, Erin.’

Stopping myself from doing both me and his wife a favour, I sat on my twitching hands. But even as my fingers grew numb, it took everything I had not to grab her photo and lob it at Rory’s forehead.

‘Then there’s your other issue.’

‘Other issue?’

‘Well, it hasn’t gone unnoticed that you’re having a few family problems, Erin.’

My back stiffened. It was one thing bitching about perimenopause marketing campaigns, which was probably the extent of Rory’s knowledge, but to talk about my mother…

‘And before you say anything, we’ve all got parents.’

I might have expected such a low blow from Callum, but I hadn’t expected it from Rory. One, because as my boss, I’d assumed he wouldn’t dare cross a line like that. And two, after years of working for him, I deserved more respect.

‘We just don’t let them interfere with our jobs.’

I recalled the aftermath of Dad’s death and how Rory had watched me bury myself in work, when most people would’ve taken personal leave. The extra hours I’d put in, the chains I’d kept on track, the record number of Foredale and Frogmore sold signs that had gone up… There were no rumblings about my elderly parents impacting my work back then.

My perimenopausal body had developed its own warning system; a way of telling me when I’d had enough of people’s crap. But as I jiggled my foot, trying to ease the now familiar tingling in my toes, the sensation intensified as it worked its way up through my legs and into my torso. By the time it reached my skull, it hit fever pitch and rage coursed through my whole being. In danger of saying something I most definitely shouldn’t, I clamped down on my jaw and while Rory held my gaze, I held my breath.

‘Which brings me to the restructure.’

Fuck the restructure.

Rory tilted his head. ‘As much as I appreciate you’re experiencing one or two distractions…’ His patronising tone screamed faux compassion. ‘…you must understand it’s my job to think of the team.’

Fuck the team.

‘Which is why I’d like you to go home, and enjoy your festivities,’ Rory continued.

Fuck the festivities.

‘And come back in the new year with a more positive attitude…’

Positive attitude, my arse.

‘…along with a presentation on what makes you a great team member.’

My brain suddenly fell silent and clamping down on my jaw, I glared at the man. Even he had to know how ridiculous that sounded. Team members supported each other through trying times. They didn’t act like Callum and go running to the boss to backstab. Line managers like Rory didn’t penalise. As team leaders, they at least tried to accommodate. More expletives bounded around my cranium as it seemed to me he’d picked the wrong person to present on that subject.

‘Obviously I’ll be talking to the others too. The housing market isn’t exactly booming at present.’

Rory was right on that score. Callum, Kelly, Tricia and Melissa had all felt the impact. But while they’d commiserated in the pub, I’d spent time strengthening my relationships with conveyancers and mortgage advisers, while going the extra mile on behalf of vendors and purchasers. Naturally, that meant my sales record had gone relatively unscathed. I scoffed. It was no wonder Callum wanted rid of me.

‘Which means reinterviewing and making hard decisions,’ Rory continued. ‘Head office has made it clear that cuts are inevitable.’

I wasn’t like Callum who’d do and say anything to ingratiate himself and neither did I care about special mugs, chocolate stashes and secret Santas. Dotting i’s, crossing t’s and getting the job done were more my thing and while Rory wittered on, I considered all the extra hours I consistently put in. Not just in the run-up to the restructure like some. Having dedicated myself to my career, Rory’s words weren’t just insulting, they rendered me invisible.

‘And like I said, it’s my job to think about what’s best for everyone.’