Eliza pictured lengthy to-do lists needing constant management. Long hours. Weekend work. Exactly what she was looking for. When she got a word in, she asked Gillian plenty of questions, taking notes. Gillian was impressed. Eliza’s part-time job as an art gallery attendant during her university years also met with her approval. Eliza’s godmother Olivia had helped her find that position, calling on one of her many contacts in the art world.
‘I’m an art lover myself,’ Gillian said. ‘I’ll get your advice on the most collectable artists.’
She remarked on the entry in Eliza’s CV regarding her volunteer work with the uni’s drama society. That had been her other godmother’s idea. Maxie had started her successful international acting career at uni in Sydney.
‘Never tempted to tread the boards yourself?’ Gillian asked.
‘No,’ Eliza said, feeling her cheeks redden even at the thought of it.
‘Good. What I want is a backroom person. I’m the face of the company and that’s how I like it. The job’s yours if you want it.’ She named a reasonable salary. ‘Give me your answer by nine tomorrow.’
Overnight, Eliza thought about it. There were three people she could ask for advice – her two godmothers and Rose, her best friend from university – but she needed to decide for herself. She said yes the next day. She was at her new desk the following Monday. In the nine years since, she’d regularly worked more than fifty hours a week and rarely taken holidays. When she did have time off, she was often called back in. She’d had only two small pay rises, both given begrudgingly.
Rose couldn’t understand why Eliza was still working there. ‘Your business card should say slave, not executive assistant.’
Maxie was equally puzzled. ‘But you’re artistic, not corporate, Eliza!’ she’d said once. ‘You should be surrounded by paints and canvases, not spreadsheets and contracts.’
Olivia was more astonished that Eliza could actually work with Gillian. ‘That woman would drive me nuts,’ she said after meeting her in the office during one of her visits to Melbourne. ‘I’ve never met anyone who talked about herself so much.’
That Monday morning, as usual, Eliza heard her boss arrive before she saw her. Gillian spent ninety per cent of her working day on the phone. Eliza handed her the coffee as she appeared, receiving a brisk nod in return. Gillian was perfectly groomed, as ever. Eliza had learned how to dress in corporate style by observation. Rose often teased her about Gillian’s influence. ‘You were practically a hippy when we met. Now you’re so sleek I’m scared of you. Come back, Old Eliza!’
It wasn’t a matter of Old or New Eliza. It was Necessary Eliza. If she wanted the safe routine and security of a good job, she had to play by the rules. Look the part. Gillian had insisted.
‘Neutral colours, thank you, Eliza. Classic suits. Hair back. Dress smart, think smart, be smart.’
She listened now as Gillian paced around the open-plan office, finishing her call. Her boss had a separate glass-walled cubicle, but was rarely in it. She’d told Eliza she preferred to keep her staff of ten on their toes. Eliza gathered that Gillian was negotiating a fee for a popular speaker, presumably for the conference they were organising for a science firm in Brisbane the following March.
After reaching a deal, Gillian put down the phone.
‘Morning, Eliza,’ she said. ‘Good weekend?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and leaned back, making her heavily pregnant belly appear even rounder. She was expecting twin girls. When the babies arrived in two months’ time, Gillian and Kevin, her lawyer husband, would have four children under the age of six.
Eliza never wondered how Gillian ‘did it all’. She saw it in action every day. Gillian was constantly on the move, networking with clients and suppliers, firing instructions via email to Eliza at every step. She also knew how Gillian and her husband managed at home: day and night nannies. Eliza had sat in on many of those interviews. Gillian went through a lot of nannies.
Eliza and Gillian always started each day with their coffee and a ten-minute meeting. Eliza had established the routine, as well as streamlining their other office processes. Gillian called Eliza the Queen of Lists. ‘All bow to our meticulous majesty,’ she’d said once to the staff at a company meeting. They’d laughed obediently. But it was true. Eliza was obsessively organised. She loved lists. They’d been special to her as a child. They kept her life running smoothly now.
That day, however, instead of sticking to Eliza’s printed agenda, Gillian pushed it to one side.
‘I have news, Eliza.’
Eliza felt a prickle of alarm. ‘Is it the babies?’
‘The babies are great. It’s work news.’
Eliza picked up her notebook.
‘You won’t need that.’
Eliza put it down. ‘Good news, I hope?’
‘Wonderful news.’ Gillian smiled. ‘I’ve sold the company.’
Eliza blinked.
‘It was an offer I couldn’t refuse,’ Gillian said. ‘A takeover. All my clients. All my existing contracts. All my current and future conferences.’
Eliza felt a jolt at the emphatic ‘my’. She’d worked on every detail of those conferences. She’d fine-tuned the contracts, liaised with every client, delegate and venue. ‘Sold to who?’
Gillian named the buyer. An international operation, based in Singapore. There’d long been speculation in the industry about their possible direct move into Australia.
Still, Eliza was shocked. ‘Just like that? Out of the blue?’
‘No. We’ve been negotiating for six months. I’ve been legally constrained from saying anything to anyone until today.’
‘To anyone? Even me?’
Gillian mimed zipping her lips. ‘I had to obey.’
Obedient was the last word Eliza would use for Gillian. ‘But when? How?’
‘I was approached when I was in Sydney last year. Just after I’d found out I was pregnant. Do you remember that huge medical conference I organised in Sydney? The one with a thousand delegates?’
Eliza had organised that huge medical conference. The delegates’ flights, the hotel rooms, the speakers’ schedules. Gillian was on the ground as the face of the company, but throughout the week Eliza was back in Melbourne working fifteen-hour days, staying one step ahead, double-checking running orders, speakers’ needs, even the catering arrangements.
When had Gillian had time for any extra appointments?
It was as if Gillian read her mind. ‘It was all done in person. The managing director flew from Singapore especially. I met with him and his lawyer. We’ve been in touch via my personal email ever since. My husband handled my legal advice, of course. Keep it in the family and all that.’ She gave a laugh that sounded fake.
‘You couldn’t tell me? After working together for nine years?’ Eliza couldn’t disguise her hurt.
An edge came into Gillian’s voice. ‘It was my company, Eliza. My decision. I’m going to take six months off, spend quality time with the children. After that, the world’s my oyster. I have some brilliant ideas already, of course. But I’m stepping away from company life. It’s time to fly solo again.’