Can You Keep a Secret?
Page 25
My stomach gives an almighty lurch, and I nearly choke on my last bite of chocolate brownie'. Oh God. This is it. I'm not ready.
Yes I am. Come on. Exude confidence. I am a woman on her way somewhere.
Suddenly I remember Kerry and her 'I am a successful woman' walk. I know Kerry's an obnoxious cow, but she does have her own travel agency and make zillions of pounds a year. She must be doing something right. Maybe I should give it a go. Cautiously I stick out my bust, lift my head and start striding across the office with a fixed, alert expression on my face.
'Have you got period pain or something?' says Paul crudely as I reach his door.
'No!' I say in shock.
'Well you look very odd. Now sit down.' He shuts the door, sits down at his desk and opens a form marked Staff Appraisal Review. 'I'm sorry I couldn't see you yesterday. But what with Jack Harper's arrival, everything got buggered up.'
'That's OK.'
I try to smile but my mouth is suddenly dry. I can't believe how nervous I feel. This is worse than a school report.
'OK. So … Emma Corrigan.' He looks at the form and starts ticking boxes. 'Generally, you're doing fine. You're not generally late … you understand the tasks given to you … you're fairly efficient … you work OK with your colleagues … blah blah … blah … Any problems?' he says, looking up.
'Er … no.'
'Do you feel racially harassed?'
'Er … no.'
'Good.' He ticks another box. 'Well I think that's it. Well done. Can you send Nick in to see me?'
What? Has he forgotten?
'Um, what about my promotion?' I say, trying not to sound too anxious.
'Promotion?' He stares at me. 'What promotion?'
'To Marketing Executive.'
'What the fuck are you talking about?'
'It said. It said in the ad for my job …' I pull the crumpled ad out of my jeans pocket, where it's been since yesterday. '"Possible promotion after a year." It says it right there.' I push it across the desk, and he looks at it with a frown.
'Emma, that was only for exceptional candidates. You're not ready for a promotion. You'll have to prove yourself first.'
'But I'm doing everything as well as I can! If you just give me a chance—'
'You had the chance at Glen Oil.' Paul raises his eyebrows at me and I feel a twinge of humiliation. 'Emma, bottom line is, you're not ready for a higher position. In a year we'll see.'
'A year?'
'OK? Now hop it.'
My mind is whirling. I have to accept this in a calm, dignified way. I have to say something like 'I respect your decision, Paul', shake his hand and leave the room. This is what I have to do.
The only trouble is, I can't seem to get up out of my chair.
After a few moments Paul looks puzzledly at me. 'That's it, Emma.'
I can't move. Once I leave this room, it's over. '
'Emma?'
'Please promote me,' I say desperately. 'Please. I have to get a promotion to impress my family. It's the only thing I want in the whole world, and I'll work so hard, I promise, I'll come in at weekends, and I'll … I'll wear smart suits …'
'What?' Paul is staring at me as though I've turned into a goldfish.
'You don't have to pay me any more salary! I'll do all the same jobs as before. I'll even pay to have my new business cards printed! I mean, it won't make any difference to you. You won't even know I've been promoted!'
I break off, breathing hard.
'I think you'll find that's not quite the point of promotion, Emma,' says Paul sarcastically. 'I'm afraid the answer's no. Even more so.'
'But—'
'Emma, a word of advice. If you want to get ahead, you have to create your own chances. You have to carve out your own opportunities. Now seriously. Could you please fuck off out of my office and get Nick for me?'
As I leave I can see him raising his eyes to heaven and scribbling something else on my form.
Great. He's probably writing 'Deranged lunatic, seek medical help'.
As I walk dejectedly back to my desk, Artemis looks up with a beady expression. 'Oh, Emma,' she says, 'your cousin Kerry just called for you.'
'Really?' I say in surprise. Kerry never phones me at work. In fact she never phones me at all. 'Did she leave a message?'
'Yes, she did. She wanted to know, have you heard about your promotion yet?'
OK. This is now official. I hate Kerry.
'Oh right,' I say, trying to sound as though this is some boring, everyday enquiry. 'Thanks.'
'Are you being promoted, Emma? I didn't know that!' Her voice is high and piercing, and I see a couple of people raise their heads in interest. 'So, are you going to become a marketing executive?'
'No,' I mutter, my face hot with humiliation. 'I'm not.'
'Oh!' Artemis pulls a mock-confused face. 'So why did she—'
'Shut up, Artemis,' says Caroline. I give her a grateful look and slump into my chair.
Yes I am. Come on. Exude confidence. I am a woman on her way somewhere.
Suddenly I remember Kerry and her 'I am a successful woman' walk. I know Kerry's an obnoxious cow, but she does have her own travel agency and make zillions of pounds a year. She must be doing something right. Maybe I should give it a go. Cautiously I stick out my bust, lift my head and start striding across the office with a fixed, alert expression on my face.
'Have you got period pain or something?' says Paul crudely as I reach his door.
'No!' I say in shock.
'Well you look very odd. Now sit down.' He shuts the door, sits down at his desk and opens a form marked Staff Appraisal Review. 'I'm sorry I couldn't see you yesterday. But what with Jack Harper's arrival, everything got buggered up.'
'That's OK.'
I try to smile but my mouth is suddenly dry. I can't believe how nervous I feel. This is worse than a school report.
'OK. So … Emma Corrigan.' He looks at the form and starts ticking boxes. 'Generally, you're doing fine. You're not generally late … you understand the tasks given to you … you're fairly efficient … you work OK with your colleagues … blah blah … blah … Any problems?' he says, looking up.
'Er … no.'
'Do you feel racially harassed?'
'Er … no.'
'Good.' He ticks another box. 'Well I think that's it. Well done. Can you send Nick in to see me?'
What? Has he forgotten?
'Um, what about my promotion?' I say, trying not to sound too anxious.
'Promotion?' He stares at me. 'What promotion?'
'To Marketing Executive.'
'What the fuck are you talking about?'
'It said. It said in the ad for my job …' I pull the crumpled ad out of my jeans pocket, where it's been since yesterday. '"Possible promotion after a year." It says it right there.' I push it across the desk, and he looks at it with a frown.
'Emma, that was only for exceptional candidates. You're not ready for a promotion. You'll have to prove yourself first.'
'But I'm doing everything as well as I can! If you just give me a chance—'
'You had the chance at Glen Oil.' Paul raises his eyebrows at me and I feel a twinge of humiliation. 'Emma, bottom line is, you're not ready for a higher position. In a year we'll see.'
'A year?'
'OK? Now hop it.'
My mind is whirling. I have to accept this in a calm, dignified way. I have to say something like 'I respect your decision, Paul', shake his hand and leave the room. This is what I have to do.
The only trouble is, I can't seem to get up out of my chair.
After a few moments Paul looks puzzledly at me. 'That's it, Emma.'
I can't move. Once I leave this room, it's over. '
'Emma?'
'Please promote me,' I say desperately. 'Please. I have to get a promotion to impress my family. It's the only thing I want in the whole world, and I'll work so hard, I promise, I'll come in at weekends, and I'll … I'll wear smart suits …'
'What?' Paul is staring at me as though I've turned into a goldfish.
'You don't have to pay me any more salary! I'll do all the same jobs as before. I'll even pay to have my new business cards printed! I mean, it won't make any difference to you. You won't even know I've been promoted!'
I break off, breathing hard.
'I think you'll find that's not quite the point of promotion, Emma,' says Paul sarcastically. 'I'm afraid the answer's no. Even more so.'
'But—'
'Emma, a word of advice. If you want to get ahead, you have to create your own chances. You have to carve out your own opportunities. Now seriously. Could you please fuck off out of my office and get Nick for me?'
As I leave I can see him raising his eyes to heaven and scribbling something else on my form.
Great. He's probably writing 'Deranged lunatic, seek medical help'.
As I walk dejectedly back to my desk, Artemis looks up with a beady expression. 'Oh, Emma,' she says, 'your cousin Kerry just called for you.'
'Really?' I say in surprise. Kerry never phones me at work. In fact she never phones me at all. 'Did she leave a message?'
'Yes, she did. She wanted to know, have you heard about your promotion yet?'
OK. This is now official. I hate Kerry.
'Oh right,' I say, trying to sound as though this is some boring, everyday enquiry. 'Thanks.'
'Are you being promoted, Emma? I didn't know that!' Her voice is high and piercing, and I see a couple of people raise their heads in interest. 'So, are you going to become a marketing executive?'
'No,' I mutter, my face hot with humiliation. 'I'm not.'
'Oh!' Artemis pulls a mock-confused face. 'So why did she—'
'Shut up, Artemis,' says Caroline. I give her a grateful look and slump into my chair.
