‘But I’ve got a ton of stuff to do today . . . Oh, bloody hell. All right then, but I’m telling you, Sarah, you’d better not come home in the same state you did yesterday.’
Oliver glared at her as if she’d chosen to be bullied at work and have her job threatened. Then he relented.
‘Come here.’ He opened his arms and she gratefully fell against his chest, wishing she could climb inside his ribcage and be someone else for a while. She was so tired of being herself.
‘Mummy, you stay here.’ Sam had got out of bed and was clasping on to her from behind, his hot cheek resting against her back.
‘Go back to bed, sweetie. Daddy’s going to stay with you today.’
‘Don’t want Daddy. Want you.’
Sam burst into snotty tears, which she could feel soaking through the back of the only clean shirt she’d been able to find that morning. She tried to explain to him about needing to go to work, but his sobs just became louder, which set Joe off, so that when she finally left the house, the sound of her sons’ cries followed her halfway down the street.
Outside the office building, she hesitated, reluctant to go in through the heavy main door. Already her heart was beating too fast and there was a nasty taste in the back of her mouth. Fear. The receptionist gazed at her blankly as she made her way to the lifts. Her feet felt like they were weighted down with breezeblocks. Everything inside her was screaming at her to turn around and go back to her family.
She’d half expected to find the office empty. Paula had been in such a strange state yesterday, Sarah actually thought she might be in the early stages of a breakdown. And just what was going on with Charlie and Amira? Or Ewan and Chloe, for that matter? But when she arrived on the fifth floor everyone was present and correct. Maybe they too feared the consequences of being away from work even more than they feared being there.
Sarah sat down heavily in her seat and tried not to catch anyone else’s eye. The tension in the office was palpable. She could feel it in her nostrils, and pressing on her eyeballs. She’d just started calculating how many weeks she’d have left before her maternity leave would start when Chloe leaned across towards her desk.
‘How are you feeling?’ she whispered.
Despite herself, Sarah felt touched. Chloe was so clearly canvassing for new buddies since whatever had happened between her and Ewan. Sarah could probably guess what it was, but things were bad enough without inventing scenarios that might not even be true.
‘I’m fine. Well, apart from feeling completely shit.’
‘Ha. Yes.’ Chloe had the air of someone skimming over the niceties in order to get on to more interesting matters. Sure enough: ‘Guess who’s in there?’
The girl jerked her head towards the glass walls of Rachel’s office, where the slatted blinds were once again pulled firmly shut, blocking any view inside.
Sarah shrugged.
‘Mark and Rachel,’ Chloe informed her. ‘He looked very grim when he came in. Do you reckon he might be about to give her the sack?’
A flare of something in her heart that she tried to dampen down.
‘I don’t expect so, Chloe. He might be giving her some advice though. She needs it.’
Chloe looked disappointed.
‘I wish he would. She’s ruined this department. It used to be such a fun place to work, didn’t it?’
Sarah thought about it. Had it been fun working here under Gill? It had certainly been more harmonious, less stressful. But fun?
Rachel’s door opened and Mark Hamilton emerged, followed by Rachel herself.
Mark’s face had lost the expression of studied bonhomie it had worn throughout the team-bonding weekend. Back in a jacket and tie, after the weekend’s ill-suited leisurewear, he exuded an authority he’d lacked in Derbyshire. Next to him, Rachel seemed diminished.
‘Can everyone gather around, please. Quick as you can.’
Even his voice had grown in stature since the weekend, reverberating off the grey laminate desks and the computer screens whose customized screensavers provided the one hint of personality in the otherwise anonymous office environment. A close-up of Ryan Gosling (Amira), a beach in Thailand, all white sand and palm trees and colourful wooden boats (Chloe), two chubby toddlers, their mouths smeared with chocolate, beaming proudly as if their gluttony was an achievement to bask in (Sarah herself).
Sarah pushed herself reluctantly to a standing position. Though her bump was still hardly noticeable, blending in effortlessly with the extra cushion of flesh she had acquired since her last pregnancy, she felt leaden with tiredness as if the baby was draining the energy out of her. She longed to be at home, lying on the sofa watching cartoons with Sam, both of them wrapped in the soft woollen blanket they kept folded over the sofa arm.