“You look absolutely terrible,” Caroline said as she handed her a takeaway coffee mug.
“Thanks so much.” Amber knew she looked bad, but she didn’t need confirmation from her supposed best friend on the matter.
“Have you slept?”
“I sure did. In Copenhagen Airport,” Amber replied, taking a sip of coffee and closing her eyes as the scorching liquid filled her mouth. It was the simple pleasures that were going to get her through what would no doubt be one of the worst moments of her life.
“Sounds nice. What’s the star rating there?” Caroline sipped her own drink and looked around the bustling coffee shop. “Let’s find somewhere quieter, we can probably find a quiet corner in the station.”
Amber nodded. Morning rush hour in a London café was nowhere to have a serious conversation. Caroline may have been flippant, but she also knew that Amber wasn’t in the habit of texting her at eight in the morning to tell her that her life was ruined, and that she needed her best friend immediately.
Light rain fell from the sky as they weaved in and out of streams of commuters trying to get to their respective offices. Amber was relieved that it was rain and not snow. Snow brought London to a complete standstill. And now it reminded her of Emilia.
They ducked into Waterloo Station and walked up to the top level to get away from the crowds of people. They sat at a table outside a restaurant that didn’t open until the late afternoon.
“So, what’s happened? I see that she’s not a murderer,” Caroline said.
“No, but she is a liar,” Amber replied bitterly. “She had no intention of signing the contract. No intention of doing business with us at all. It was all a lie.”
Caroline looked as confused as Amber felt. “Then why did she want you to go over there?”
“I’ve no idea.” Amber had racked her brains during her sleepless night at the airport but couldn’t fathom why Emilia had told the lie she had. It didn’t help that just thinking about Emilia caused her heart to clench in pain.
“There wasn’t some kind of translation issue?”
“No, she speaks perfect English. She knows words you don’t—”
“Hey.”
“She definitely lied to me. She pretended that she did business only with people she knew well, but she had no intention of even talking about it. She called me a faceless corporation.” That admission had slipped out. She hadn’t intended to focus on that point, but her sleep-deprived brain had latched onto it again and again. She couldn’t believe that was what Emilia thought of her.
“Ouch.” Caroline placed her hand on hers. “What’s the next step?”
Amber exhaled a deep breath. “Now… I lose my job. I’m not supposed to be back for a couple of days, so whenever I get the courage to go into the office… I do. Then I tell Bronwyn what happened, and she fires me.”
“Is there any chance you can convince her to keep you on? Appeal to her Christmas spirit?”
Amber gave her a look.
“Right. Yeah. The devil, I remember. I’m so sorry, I wish there was something I could do to help.”
“It’s okay. I just needed to see a friendly face. I rushed out of there yesterday evening, missed the last flight of the day, and had to sleep in the airport. But I didn’t sleep because I was so angry at myself for falling for her lies. And then I got the first flight this morning, which was expensive, and I don’t know if the company might refuse to pay it and deduct it from my last salary. Oh, Caz, everything is such a mess.”
Caroline didn’t reply. Amber looked up at her friend who was staring off into the distance.
“Hello? Earth to Caroline?”
“Look.” Caroline pointed towards the enormous television screen above the departure boards that normally showed either the news or advertising.
“Oh no…” Amber’s heart sank. The television showed a live news report of a vehicle attack in the London Bridge area. She waited as the ticker tape along the bottom of the screen scrolled around. Early reports were that there had been multiple casualties. Police were still hunting for the suspect.
“Terrifying,” Caroline breathed.
“Yeah.” Amber’s problems suddenly felt tiny in comparison to what was happening a short distance away.
“Nowhere is safe,” Caroline whispered.
“No, it’s not. And this is the second terrorist incident on London Bridge,” Amber said.
“And there was the one in Westminster.”
“And the one at the Tube station,” Amber remembered.
Caroline’s brow furrowed. “Where was that again?”
“Wasn’t it Parsons Green?”
“Yes, that was it. Isn’t it terrible that there have been so many that we start to forget them?” Caroline shook her head. “They’ve become the new normal.” She shivered at the thought.
“True. But, like they say, we can’t let the terrorists win. Right?” Amber said.
It was something that most Londoners found themselves saying at one point or another. No one was about to stop living their life because of cowardly terrorism.
“Damn right,” Caroline said. “I’ll still be out tonight.”
“If you’re buying, I’ll be with you,” Amber said with a faint laugh, the emptiness of her bank account already playing on her mind.
“You know you have a place on my sofa if you need it,” Caroline said. “You won’t, though, because you’ll be fine. You’re great at your job, and you’ll be snapped up by a better employer in no time. But I won’t let you be homeless, so don’t worry about silly things like that.”
Amber reached across the table and pulled Caroline into a hug. She knew she was blessed to have such a great friend, and such a wonderful group of friends in general. If anything went wrong, even though the thought was mortifying, she’d be supported. She didn’t want to mess up her life so badly that she needed saving, but the safety net was appreciated.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.” She pulled away, her eyes looking at the news report. “I can’t watch that anymore. I think I better get into the office and face my fate.”
“Okay. Let me know what happens.”
They stood up and hugged once more. Caroline wished her luck before waving her off, ordering her to be careful. They both knew that being careful had nothing to do with it. It was a sad state of affairs that the world they lived in now meant the risk of terror attacks. It could happen at any time and to anyone.
But Amber was more concerned about Bronwyn than any terrorist. Why spend time worrying about something that would probably never happen when something much more tangible was lurking right around the corner?
Tom looked at Amber and then at his watch and then back at Amber again. It was a pointless exercise which caused her to sigh at his ridiculous dramatics.
“I thought you were out for a few more days,” he finally said.
“I was, but now I’m back.” She placed her bag on her desk and looked towards Bronwyn’s closed office door.
“She’s out,” Tom explained before she could ask. “She’ll be back later this afternoon. Not sure when.”
Amber rolled her eyes. She’d spent the last half-hour walking up and down the street to try to find the courage to come in and be fired, and now Bronwyn didn’t even have the courtesy to be there.
She wondered what to do next. Should she leave again and come back later? Take the cowardly way out and leave a letter? No, that would just result in a later phone call to pick over the remains of what had happened and attempt to justify the cowardly letter.
And she didn’t really want to quit. She didn’t want to leave at all, not yet. Not while the employment market was so quiet. If she could hang on at Walker Clay for a few more weeks, everything might just work out okay.
The chance of Bronwyn giving her another chance was slim. But there was a chance, and her bank account and upcoming bills were begging her to take it.
She looked at her in tray. It was bulging with post from the last few days.
Might find the next Harry Potter in that lot, she thought to herself. The only thing that might save me now.
“Are you going to sit down or hover there all day?” Tom asked.
“Seeing as you asked so nicely.” She put her coat on the back of her chair and sat down.
Her heart was thumping against her rib cage. The day had turned into a ticking time bomb. Bronwyn would unexpectedly return to the office at who knew when, and Amber was going to have to sit at her desk and wait for that horrible moment. Her only hope was to find something incredible in her work pile or her inbox.
Which was about as likely as London having a white Christmas.
It really was turning into the day from hell. She’d hardly slept, her neck ached from the uncomfortable airport chairs, London was under attack again, and now she was waiting for the axe to fall. And on top of all of that, her brain kept unhelpfully providing her with images of Emilia.
She picked up the first hefty manuscript on the pile and skimmed the poorly worded query letter. She’d be glad when the day was over.