The Christmas Party
Read The Christmas Party Online
Authors: Carole Matthews
The Christmas
Party
Carole Matthews
First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Sphere
Copyright © Carole Matthews 2014
This edition published by Carole Matthews INK Ltd 2014
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
To my dear friend Bern,
for fun and inspiration.
The Day of the Christmas Party
A preview of Carole Matthews’
Calling Mrs Christmas
Praise for Carole’s novels from authors and the media
The Day of the
Christmas Party
Chapter One
‘You need to have eyes in the back of your head with that one, Louise Young. You mark my words.’ Karen from Customer Accounts gives me a meaningful look and inclines her head towards my dear boss’s office. ‘There was a scandal involving his last personal assistant, you know.’
I didn’t.
She leans forward and checks that no one’s listening. Quite unlikely when there are only the two of us here.
‘There was talk all over the office about
an affair
.’ The last bit is whispered, feigning discretion while she clearly relishes sharing the gossip. ‘She was a nice girl too. By all accounts.’
I’m sure she was.
‘Everyone called her Knicker-Dropper Debbie after what happened.’
‘Wow.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Karen flicks the tinsel she’s wearing as a feather boa and examines her nails. Her reputation as the office oracle is a source of great pride to her. I only met her a few weeks ago, when she kindly helped me with a query about one of Tyler’s clients, but I already feel as if she’s been a good friend to me. She’s been showing me the ropes at Fossil Oil and I’m glad of her insights. There’s nothing she doesn’t know.
So I’m also hoping that Karen is my best bet in relieving my current plight. It’s fair to say that I’m experiencing certain difficulties at Fossil Oil, and up to now I’ve been trying to handle them by myself, but I can’t hold it in any longer. Anyway, I’ve finally taken my courage in both hands and spilled the beans, confiding my woes to Karen. She doesn’t look surprised at all, which worries me even more.
Deep breath. Here goes. I hate to admit it but my boss, Tyler Benson, takes every opportunity to touch, grope or brush against me. I’ve never encountered anything like this before and I’m at a loss. I just don’t know how to deal with it. He’s my boss, my senior here. I should be looking up to him, learning from him. He should be mentoring me, teaching me. I shouldn’t spend my days running round my desk to keep away from him like I’m in a Benny Hill comedy. It’s got to stop and I’m hoping that Karen, as she clearly knows the score here at Fossil Oil, might have some bright ideas.
Besides, who else can I tell? I’m the new girl and I don’t feel I can go running straight to Human Resources the minute something goes wrong. What would that look like? They might think I’m too weak to manage my job. I’m a responsible grown-up and have to show that I can stand up to Tyler and sort this out myself. But, believe me, I think I’ve done all I can to communicate to him that I’d rather he kept his distance and didn’t paw me. However, it seems to be like water off a duck’s back to Tyler. Which is tricky, because on the one hand I love my new job and really need to maintain a good relationship with him. But on the other hand I don’t want things to carry on like this.
‘You need to tread carefully with Tyler,’ Karen warns. ‘He’s such a slimy toad, everyone knows that, yet he can do no wrong in this place.’
‘Why?’
‘Brilliant salesman. That’s all this company is bothered about.’ Karen deals with the tea she’s brought from the vending machine for us both, stirring this way and that with a plastic spoon in a ponderous manner. ‘I can’t stand him, but you can’t deny that he knows how to play the corporate game.’
I think I realised that on day one.
‘When it all blew up, poor Debbie was the one who was squeezed out, not Golden Balls.’ Tea dispensed, Karen continues to play with her tinsel adornment. ‘You don’t want that.’
I most certainly don’t.
Karen and I had a tea-break date to meet up in the staff canteen but at my request she’s come to my office instead. If I don’t use this short time to put up some Christmas decorations in here, there won’t be any at all. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I need to get a move on or I’ll miss the boat completely. There are some fabulous, outsize baubles hanging in the main atrium of the building, but the rest of the place is bare. I’d hate it if I didn’t mark Christmas at all in my own office. How miserable would that be?
‘I don’t know why you’re bothering,’ Karen says, nodding towards my stash of decorations as I blow up yet another balloon.
I pinch the top closed and take a breather. ‘It’s Christmas. I want it to look pretty.’
Karen waves a hand at my decorations. ‘Christmas a-go-go.’
‘Likey?’
‘Lovey. They’re too good for this place.’
They’re actually mostly bits and bobs that I brought from home. Mum and Dad have boxes and boxes of the stuff in the loft, lovingly gathered over the years. They are the king and queen of Christmas junk and they didn’t mind me pinching a few bits to liven this place up. I think Mum was quite relieved that I was taking some of it off her hands. Our loft must be like the Tardis. She’s accumulated so much Christmas stuff over the years, there’s barely room for the humans once she gets it all out. Still, I have to say that they don’t look too bad at all.
‘It’ll be nice,’ I assure Karen.
My friend shrugs her indifference to my attempts to be festive. I’ve not been here at the Fossil Oil Corporation for very long – just a few months – and now Karen has taken me under her wing, and for that I’m very grateful. This is a massive, fast-moving, glamorous company and I so want to get everything right.
‘Tyler Benson is
far
too important for them to lose him, Louise. It’s the likes of us – the oppressed masses – who get the boot when things go pear-shaped.’
I sigh. ‘How very depressing.’
‘Better to keep your tits covered and your gob shut and hold him at arm’s length for as long as you possibly can. He might get bored and leave you alone.’
‘But he’ll only do it to someone else. It’s sexual harassment or something. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’
She shrugs again. ‘You can try to fight it if you want to, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when they’re handing you your P45.’
‘That’s something I can’t risk. This is the first decent job that I’ve had since Mia was born.’
‘She’s four now?’
I nod. ‘Not long before she’s five.’
Karen looks at the picture I have on my desk. ‘Pretty like her mum.’
Mia is a pretty girl, and I don’t think I’m saying that just because I’m her mum. She’s got my brown hair and deep blue eyes, my creamy colouring. A chip off the old block, but with a sprinkle of extra cuteness. There’s very little of her father in her, which I’m always thankful for. Mia is definitely her mother’s daughter. My heart warms just to think of her and I miss her every minute of the day when I’m away from her. ‘She started school in September, which freed me up to rush back to the big bad world of work.’ And, by some divine miracle, I’ve bagged myself a really great job.
‘What did you do before you had her?’
‘I was behind the counter in a bank. Being a cashier wasn’t the best job in the world. You’ve seen those uniforms. But I didn’t mind it. The hours were OK, the pay all right, and there were even prospects for advancement. At least, there were when I started.’
‘So why leave?’
‘By the time I was due to return from maternity leave, my branch had been closed, and they wanted me to go over to Bedford, which would have meant travelling miles to work every day – a good hour each way in rush hour. With a new baby, I didn’t think I could manage that.’
‘Bummer.’
‘Tell me about it.’
I’ve bought a pretty Christmas tree for the office, which stands on top of the low filing cabinet as if it were tailored for the space. It’s the only thing I’ve splashed out on. It was cheap and cheerful in Home Bargains but it glows with different colours and there’s a sweet star on the top. I bought one for Mia too, in pink, for her bedroom. I abandon the balloons for the moment and climb on to my desk to pin another pretty gold-coloured garland into the corner.
‘I was struggling enough just trying to get through the day at home,’ I tell Karen as I drive my drawing pin home, hoping it holds. ‘I had no idea how much work a baby was until I had Mia.’ I smile at my own naïvety.
‘Why do you think I haven’t got any kids?’ Karen shudders at the thought.
‘The bank couldn’t – or wouldn’t – offer me part-time hours either, which, apart from the inevitable drop in money, might have helped a bit.’
If I’m honest, my life was a total mess then. Looking back, I think I had a touch of the baby blues, but you never really want to acknowledge that, do you? So I was trying to soldier on when I just felt exhausted and overwhelmed by it all.
I jump down, cross the office trailing the garland in my wake and, using a chair as a ladder, fix it diagonally across the ceiling. Maybe I should have got my mum to come in for an hour after work to do this. That would have been a plan. She’d have been in her element and I’d love to show off my posh office to her. She’s been so supportive while I’ve been out of work and I want to make her proud of me. I want her to see that I’m getting my act back together.
‘Was there a
Mr
Young on the scene?’ Karen asks. ‘Couldn’t he have helped?’
‘Mia was a good baby, but Steve and I were going through a really difficult time. We’d never had the easiest of relationships, and after Mia was born he just got worse and worse.’ I shrug, as if the pain isn’t still there when I talk about this. ‘Mum and Dad were trying to help, but they were having to tiptoe round Steve too as he didn’t like them in our house too much. He said that they invaded our privacy. They fuss, my parents, but they have hearts of gold. Steve could never see that side of them: they just irritated him beyond belief.’
‘Sounds like a twat.’
‘Yeah.’ I can’t disagree with her succinct assessment. I still wonder now what I saw in him. He was a bad boy and I should have run a mile in the opposite direction when we first met.
To shift the image, I turn my attention back to the balloons, tying them into bunches with elastic bands. I’d like to say that there’s some sort of colour scheme, but there isn’t. This is a party pack of assorted colours, so I’m having to take pot luck and lump it. Besides, when it comes to Christmas, colour coordination is vastly overrated.