Eliza forced herself to ask it. ‘Where does that leave me?’
‘Sadly, your job is now obsolete.’ Gillian didn’t look sad. ‘They’ve bought my company in name and intellectual property only. They’ll bring in their own team.’
Eliza could hear the buzz-buzz-buzz of incoming calls on Gillian’s phone. If she wanted more answers, she’d need to be quick.
‘How long have I got?’
Gillian laughed. ‘It’s not a diagnosis, Eliza. Or a death sentence. I’m legally bound to give you a fortnight’s notice. I’ll be telling the others when they come in this morning.’
‘Two weeks? For everyone to find another job?’ Eliza named her colleagues. It seemed important to remind Gillian of the personal impact of her decision.
Gillian’s voice grew steely. ‘They’ll be fine. They’ll have my company name on their CVs. As will you. There’s also a severance package, obviously. You didn’t think I’d leave you in the lurch, did you?’
Eliza didn’t know what she thought.
Gillian reached over and unexpectedly took Eliza’s hands. It didn’t feel affectionate.
‘I know this must come as a shock, Eliza, but remember, one door closes, another opens. I’m doing you a favour, if you ask me. Let’s face facts – you’re stuck in a rut. What have you done with your life so far? It’s time you stepped outside your comfort zone. I’m a risk-taker by nature, so it’s easy for me to say this, but in my opinion it will do you good to try something new, spread your wings. Once you get over that silly fear of flying, of course!’ She laughed again.
Eliza was suddenly glad she’d never explained what had triggered her fear of flying, why she hadn’t flown since she was seventeen years old.
Gillian handed Eliza a copy of her severance agreement. ‘You can get legal advice at your own expense, but I assure you it’s watertight.’
‘Thank you,’ Eliza said, taking it.
‘That’s it? “Thank you”?’ Gillian’s expression hardened. ‘I have to say your response is, frankly, disappointing. After everything I’ve done for you. I took a chance on you as a graduate. You have my name on your CV. This deal is also wonderful news for me as a woman. Yet you haven’t even said congratulations. I thought we were friends. Now I’m not sure.’
Eliza watched silently as her boss stalked off. Alone at her desk, she read the five-page document. She’d negotiated enough contracts to realise there was no point disputing it.
Her colleagues arrived before nine a.m. They were cheerful, talking about their weekends. All in their twenties, hardworking, enthusiastic. At nine-ten, Gillian called them together.
There was shock, even tears, from the younger ones. Gillian had their severance agreements ready too. It was wonderful news, she insisted. She kept giving the fake laugh Eliza was starting to hate.
At ten a.m., Gillian called her in. She’d drafted an email announcing the takeover. She instructed Eliza to send it to all their contacts: clients, venue managers, speakers’ agencies, business media. It was upbeat, announcing a wonderful success story, a small Australian company sought after by an international leader in the field. It glossed over the redundancies. Only Gillian was named and quoted. ‘I am very proud of my achievements and so excited for what the future may hold for me.’
The calls flooded in as soon as the email was sent. Mostly from clients who already had conference contracts with them, concerned about their future. Eliza transferred them all to Gillian. Twice, Gillian called her in, crossly saying that surely Eliza could handle ‘the minor ones’.
Eliza knew what she wanted to say. ‘But it’s you they want to speak to. It’s your company. Your big news.’ She didn’t, of course. It wasn’t her way. She preferred to stay quiet. Hide her feelings.
She left the office at six, one hour earlier than normal. Gillian had left at five, as usual. Eliza would have followed, but one of her younger colleagues came to her, upset, asking for help to update her CV. Afterwards, she gave Eliza a hug. ‘You’re the one we’ll all miss. We hope she falls apart without you.’
The heat outside was still fierce, but Eliza barely noticed it on the walk to her apartment. In the foyer, she picked up her mail. Three advertising circulars and an envelope with her name typed on the front.
She opened it as she went up the stairs. There was a lift, but the hundreds of steps each day were her regular exercise. She stopped on the third landing, trying to take in the letter’s contents.
Dear Ms Miller,
I am writing to advise you that your landlord is returning from overseas and wishes to take occupancy of her apartment. As per your tenancy agreement, I’m henceforth giving you three months’ notice to vacate. We would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your excellent tenancy over the past eight years.
Inside her apartment, she sat down on her sofa, still holding the letter. She could feel the sting of tears, but she did her best to blink them away. She stared out the window at the flurry of dark clouds now buffeting across the sky.
For the hundredth, perhaps the thousandth, time in her life, she thought it.
I want my mum.
I want to talk to my mum.
It wasn’t possible.
She needed to talk to someone. She took out her phone, going to her most frequent contacts.
Top of the list was Rose, but Eliza never liked to ring her at this time of day. After graduating, Rose had married her childhood sweetheart Harry and gone back to live in her home town of Colac, two hours west of Melbourne. She was now busy with their three young kids and their stock supplies business. Eliza had stayed with them often enough to picture the scene: a cacophony of background noise, the kids having baths, the table being set, piano practice, Harry in the kitchen making elaborate meals and lots of mess. Rose always preferred long leisurely phone conversations late at night, enjoyed over a glass of wine.
Eliza scrolled down to the next two names. They were in alphabetical order. Maxie and Olivia. She was calculating the time difference, trying to decide who to call first, when the landline phone rang beside her. The caller’s name flashed up on the small screen.
Olivia.
It happened so often. One of her godmothers there just when she needed them, in person or on the phone. On the day of Eliza’s university graduation, Olivia had stood clapping and cheering when Eliza’s name was called and she stepped onto the stage. Maxie sent a big bunch of flowers when Eliza emailed them about getting the job with Gillian. Olivia sent her a department store voucher to buy a ‘work wardrobe’. Maxie surprised her with a visit on her twenty-first birthday, flying across the world to spend a long weekend with her. Olivia did the same for her thirtieth birthday.
Maxie had been the first to arrive at the hospital that night thirteen years ago, followed as quickly as possible by Olivia. The night Eliza had flown home after a wonderful holiday and —
No. She couldn’t think of that now.
She answered, forcing a smile into her voice. ‘Olivia, hi!’
‘Drat,’ Olivia said. ‘I wanted your voicemail. That’s why I rang your home phone. Are you sick?’
‘No, I finished early.’ About to explain, she stopped. ‘Why did you want to get my voicemail?’