CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
On Thursday morning, we’re told that our jobs are at risk. Cosmo holds one-to-one meetings with us all day to talk through our rights, why redundancies are necessary, confirm that anyone in the team could be selected, and ask whether we want to take voluntary redundancy. I almost feel sorry for him—it’s a miserable discussion and having it with so many people, one after the other, can’t be fun. But then I remember it’s Cosmo and any sympathy fizzles away. He’s probably secretly delighted that he can make a few cuts.
The mood of the office has never been lower. It’s practically silent. And I can’t tell if it’s a good or a bad thing that Ryan isn’t there. He’s gone to Wales to interview a couple in their thirties who used to be risk-management specialists at a private bank in London but sacked it all in and left the city to become farmers, for a feature he’s writing on the trend of young people swapping urban lives for rural ones. He won’t be back until tomorrow.
He also hasn’t messaged me, and when I ask Cosmo if Ryan knows what’s going on, he says he does with a dismissive wave of his hand. I can’t help but notice that Cosmo is fidgeting endlessly while we are talking and can’t look me in the eye. He seems flustered and irritated at my questions, as though I’m accusing him of something. His behavior only confirms what I’ve already guessed.
“You don’t know who’s going,” Mimi says dismally when we’ve escaped the suffocatingly grim atmosphere of the office that afternoon for a stroll. “It could be anyone.”
“Cosmo has never understood my job.”
“Travel is hardly a necessity.”
“Mimi, you don’t need to worry. Cosmo just expanded the luxury travel section because it brings in so much paid advertising. Not to mention how popular your pages are because you’re so brilliant.”
“Same goes for you!”
I give her a look. “You know how Cosmo feels about my role. And since our meeting, I’ve been analyzing recent events, and something is becoming a little clearer.”
She stops to face me. “What?”
“I thought it was strange how Cosmo kept trying to give my features to Ryan—I get that there can be crossover with our roles and sometimes the same topics are of interest to us both, but Cosmo kept trying to palm off what should be obvious celebrity features to him, too. I think he’s been testing the waters to see if Ryan can essentially do both our jobs.”
Mimi frowns as she considers my theory.
“Think about it. How many magazines have a celebrity editor nowadays? Maybe some of the big women’s glossy magazines or gossip blogs, but not publications like Narrative. Roles like mine can easily be covered by someone else.”
“No one can do your job like you can,” she says fiercely, and I feel an overwhelming surge of love for her support.
“Thanks, Mimi, but it’s a miracle that I’ve held onto this job for as long as I have, really. I should be grateful for that, but—” I hesitate, staring at the ground, my voice breaking slightly as I try to hold it together “—I love it so much. I can’t imagine doing anything else. It’s all I have.”
Mimi hugs me and reminds me that we still don’t know anything yet. We just have to wait and see.
That night, lying in bed, I come to the conclusion that I can’t bear to wait and see much longer. Which is why on Friday afternoon I request a meeting with Cosmo and ask him outright if my job is being made redundant.
“Harper,” he begins, startled by my abrupt line of questioning, “we will be announcing the redundancies next week. Everything is still being discussed and prepared, and—”
“But you already know,” I interrupt, standing behind the chair opposite his desk, my fingernails digging into the back cushion. “I know that you know. You’re just finalizing details at this point. If I’m being made redundant, I’d like to be notified now.”
Studying my determined expression, he presses his lips together and then inhales deeply.
“All right,” he says gruffly. “I’m sorry, Harper, but I’m afraid you are one of the casualties this round. Although we … value you and your hard work for this magazine, we are unable to justify keeping the position of celebrity editor.”
I knew it was coming, but it still feels like being punched in the stomach, standing in a glass box and learning that everything I’ve worked for is slipping from my grasp.
Cosmo clears his throat, making it obvious that he’d rather this conversation finishes sooner than later by checking his watch.
“Anyway, we can have the formal meeting next week to discuss the terms of redundancy and your notice period, and you’re welcome to bring someone with you from HR, if you’d like. I must point out that I’m doing you a favor here, giving you the heads-up, simply because you asked, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else on the team quite yet. There are two others who will also be made redundant, and I’ll be telling them next week. If people find out that you know, they’ll all be banging on the door to find out who else is in trouble, and I’d rather not have that headache today.”
He glances at his computer and moves his mouse to click on something.
“I need to deal with this email. Will that be all?”
I don’t know how to respond. I’m suddenly too exhausted to speak, so I nod silently and walk out of his office. No one looks up as I emerge. They’re all too focused on their work or on their phones. I hear Gabby sniff from her computer and see that her eyes are red and squinty from crying again today. She is a fairly recent hire as the editorial assistant and is therefore convinced that she’s going to be the first to go. I wish I could protect her from it, especially when she’s only just broken into journalism. I feel so sorry for her, and terrible for myself. I’m cursed with knowing I’m no longer part of this team without being able to share the news with anyone.
Sitting down, I pull myself in toward my desk and stare numbly at my screen. The emails popping up in my inbox seem irrelevant now. I try to picture my life without this job. I can’t. It seems impossible. I’ll have to start applying elsewhere. The panic begins to bubble through me.
What am I going to do?
“Harper, are you okay?” Mimi asks, peering round her screen. “You don’t look so good.”
“Yeah, fine, but I’ve just realized I’m supposed to be … at a book launch,” I squeak, bile rising in my throat. I reach down for my bag. “I have to go.”
“We were all going to go for a drink after work,” she says, gesturing to the rest of the team. “Drown our sorrows together, so to speak.”
“I really need to be at this launch. It’s a big deal. Lots of … scandal. Sorry to miss out.”
“We’ll miss you. Are you sure you’re all right?” she checks, concerned.
“Just a bit of a headache. I’ll take some ibuprofen on the way,” I assure her, logging off and pushing myself up off my chair. “See you.”
I don’t know if Cosmo notices me leaving as I hurry past his office, but if he does, he doesn’t try to stop me. Why should he care now anyway? Standing at the back of the elevator, I blink back tears as reporters from the main paper cram in with me, and I wait impatiently as they file out onto the ground floor, then rush past them to get to the exit.
It’s raining. Heavily. It was a clear morning and warm, too, so I haven’t brought an umbrella or any kind of jacket with me to work today.
I step out into the rain and begin the walk to the tube, water drops falling freely down my face, dripping off the end of my nose, the wisps of my hair that have fallen loose from my ponytail plastering against my forehead, my blue shirt beginning to stick to my skin as it dampens. I don’t care.
“Harper!”
I’m so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, blinking through the onslaught of rain, that I don’t notice Ryan until he’s right in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. He peers down at me, holding a large umbrella that he immediately positions over my head.
“What are you doing?” he asks, clearly baffled by my walk in the rain when I’m supposed to be working.
“You’re in Wales,” I say stupidly, even though he’s standing in front of me right here on the pavement in Vauxhall.
“Only until this morning. I’ve just got the train back. You’re soaked! Why don’t you have an umbrella?”
“It wasn’t raining earlier.”
“Where are you going? Do you have an event?”
“Yes,” I lie, using the back of my hand to wipe the water off my face. “I have to go.”
“Wait, Harper, take this,” he says, holding out the handle of the umbrella as I go to step around him.
“No, thanks. I’m fine,” I say, pushing it away.
“What’s wrong?” He steps back to stand in front of me again. “Something is wrong. Talk to me.”
“You heard about the redundancies, didn’t you?”
His face falls. “Yes. It’s so shit. How is everyone?”
“Not good. Did Cosmo call you yesterday?”
He runs a hand through his hair, and I understand straightaway why he’s not answering a very simple question.
“How long have you known?” I ask, looking at him in disbelief.
“A few days,” he admits quietly.
“A few days?” I repeat, bewildered. “Since when?!”
“Monday.”
“You’ve known all week.”
Ryan looks pained. “I wanted to tell you. I was desperate to tell you, but I had to be professional. I was under strict instructions that it was confidential information. Even though it killed me, I had to keep it from you. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s why you’ve been off with me,” I say slowly, putting two and two together. “You could have said something.”
“I wasn’t allowed to say anything to anyone,” he protests.
“Yes, Ryan, but it’s me. You could have trusted me to keep it to myself! You could have prepared me for this! Instead, you were cold and distant, and I assumed it was all my fault. I had no idea what I’d done wrong. And then when I found out this huge news with the rest of the team, you weren’t there and you didn’t even message!”
“I didn’t want to lie to you,” he insists. “I knew I wanted to see you before talking about it.”
“Well, you did lie to me. And now I feel like an even bigger idiot than I did before.”
“I didn’t want to know that information, Harper! I didn’t want Cosmo to have that meeting with me. I’ve felt like the biggest fraud the last few days, having to face everyone in the office and act normally with this huge cloud over my head. I wish he hadn’t told me a damn thing,” he seethes, his eyes flaring with anger.
My blood turns to ice as something else dawns on me.
“Ryan,” I begin, my voice weak and shaky, “did you know who was being made redundant?”
With a pained expression, he shuts his eyes.
“Oh my god,” I say, watching him. “You didn’t just know it was coming, you knew that it was coming for me. Cosmo told you.”
“He didn’t tell me straight out,” he croaks. “He heavily implied that you were the most at risk. But Harper, I didn’t—”
I don’t want to hear any more. I don’t want to speak to him. I don’t want to look at him. Pushing past, I march down the road as fast as my legs can carry me without breaking into a full-on run. He keeps calling out my name, hurrying to catch up with me, still trying to hold the umbrella over my head.
“Leave me alone,” I cry.
“Please, Harper,” he says, trying to grab my arm, but I shake him off.
“Get off me!”
“Can you just listen to me instead of storming off?”
“Why should I listen to you, Ryan?” I yell, turning to face him and throwing up my arms in exasperation. I don’t care that I’m shouting in public. I don’t care who sees. I’m so tired. “You lied to me! Again! It’s history repeating itself!”
“Don’t say that, Harper. It’s not like that,” he insists firmly.
“It’s even raining. Just like last time! We’re in some kind of time loop! I’ve got fucking déjà vu! Outside the office where we work, my life falling apart, yours perfectly intact. Days of you lying to my face.”
“That’s not what—”
“I am such an idiot. A fucking fool. The kind of person you read about in books and watch in movies who keeps falling for the same bullshit. You’d think I’d learn!”
“Harper—”
“When you got this job, I told myself that I couldn’t fall for you again, that I couldn’t let myself be taken in by you or let myself be tempted by this weird … this weird—” I gesture at myself and then at him “—pull between us. And yet here I am eleven years later in exactly the same position! You couldn’t make it up!”
“Please, just—”
“Just what, Ryan?” I demand loudly over the noise of the rain. “What would you like me to do? Listen to your side of the story? Trust you? Is that what you want?”
“You have to understand why I couldn’t tell you, Harper! I wanted to talk to you. I hated that I couldn’t say anything. I hated myself for knowing. That’s why I had to distance myself from you, because I couldn’t bear the idea of not being able to tell you. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake as last time and act normal around you with this huge, horrible secret I didn’t even want to know! I would have done anything for us not to be colleagues so I could—”
I throw my head back and laugh, the rain pouring freely down my face, my mascara no doubt smudging over my cheeks.
“Well, whaddya know, Ryan? You got your wish! We are officially no longer colleagues. I don’t have a job anymore, so there you go. You can wipe your hands of me.”
He recoils, stung. Good.
“How can you say that?” he asks me, his cheeks flushing red. “You know how I feel about you.”
“What I know is that you lied to me and betrayed me again,” I say, my voice shaking as I blink back hot tears that threaten to spill over. “And then you made me think that I had done something wrong, by essentially ignoring me these last few days. You have no idea how this feels. If I thought I was humiliated last time, it’s nothing to how I feel right now. This job was everything to me. And now it’s gone. You and Cosmo can have a splendid time in your little boys’ club, printing whatever the fuck you want to print. I’m no longer the thorn in your sides.”
“That’s not what it’s like,” he says, the hand not holding the umbrella clenching into a fist. “I hate how he treats you. I have only ever admired what you do, Harper. For fuck’s sake, I know this is a shock, but this job is not everything to you.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Excuse me?”
“What I mean is that you are better than this job, Harper,” he presses. “You are one of the best journalists I’ve ever met! Everyone in the industry knows it. I knew it before, but now that I’ve had the opportunity to see you at work, I’m even more convinced that what you have is an extremely rare talent. You draw the best out of everyone. And you know what? Cosmo has been holding you back. This magazine has been holding you back. I get that being made redundant is scary, but you can do whatever you want now, Harper, and I think that you can do a lot.” He sighs. “I appreciate that you probably don’t want to hear this from me right now, but I think that this could be a good thing.”
I shake my head at him. “You are unbelievable. This isn’t a good opportunity, Ryan. This is it. I won’t come back from this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My parents were right all along. I shouldn’t keep trying at a career that’s going nowhere,” I admit, trembling.
“You don’t mean that,” he states. “You’re angry and upset. You’re in shock. You need to go home and rest. Let me come with you. Let me take you home.”
“I do mean it, Ryan,” I say, tears streaming down my cheeks as the anger crumbles into hurt. “I’m at the top of my game and I’m still somehow failing. You say that everyone knows how good I am, but look at me. I’m redundant. I’m standing in the rain with you, eleven years after my first big failure, and here I am, a failure once again. I give up.”
“So, you’ve had one setback and now you’re giving up?” he huffs impatiently.
“A setback? I’ve lost my job! It’s all I have!”
“It is not all you have, Harper,” he practically yells, his tone taking me by surprise. “This job is not your be-all and end-all. It’s a job. It’s not who you are.”
“That just goes to show you don’t know me at all.”
I let out an involuntary sob, and he instinctively takes a step toward me, his arm reaching up to my face, but I bat him away, recoiling from him.
“Leave me alone, Ryan. I’m going home.”
“Let me come with you,” he says softly, his stern expression crumpling. “I don’t want you to be on your own. Not when you’re like this.”
“I want to be alone,” I insist.
“Harper,” he pleads, “let me—”
“I don’t want to have anything to do with you, Ryan,” I snap. “This is it. We’re done.”
His jaw clenches. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”
“I should have learned my lesson last time. You haven’t changed. I was naïve to think that I could trust you again.”
“You can trust me!” he says, his voice strangled, his eyes glistening. “Harper, I lov—”
“Don’t,” I instruct coldly, glaring at him. “Whatever this was between us, it’s over. For good. I can’t be with someone I don’t trust. And I will never trust you again, Ryan Jansson.”
I turn on my heel and walk away.
He doesn’t follow.