Molly had worried the weekend away. By the time Monday morning arrived, she’d bitten her nails to the quick and not slept a wink.
Added to the horror of everything, she kept seeing Georgina’s face ripped with distress and her eyes clouded in a storm of anger and hurt. And she kept hearing Georgina’s voice over and over, recalling her words coiled tight like a cobra about to strike. She’d remained gripped all weekend, barely able to breathe in the shock and agony of the venom of Georgina’s accusations.
How could Georgina think so little of her? Yes, she had tried to win her over and to impress her in the hope that she would feel able to have faith in the museum, but she had not set out to manipulate her or to deceive her. And she had certainly not set out to fall for her. She had not set out to imagine that Georgina could be the one.
She’d followed no plan, not even Evelyn’s. What would Evelyn say? What could Molly say in defence of her actions? She had crossed professional boundaries with Georgina with seemingly little regard for how important Georgina was to the museum. No words of argument could change the fact she had disregarded Evelyn’s direct instructions, not once, but twice. She’d carried on researching Josephine’s portrait, and then she had raised the matter with Georgina of displaying the portrait in the Wright room. And Fran had warned Molly to take care, for she had seen the standoff coming. And now it had arrived, stark and with nowhere to hide.
Evelyn’s door swung open, and Evelyn emerged looking tired and fuzzy at the edges. Her weekend had also obviously offered little rest.
“Molly.” Evelyn’s voice was weary and her eyes fell heavily upon Molly’s face.
Molly quickly stood. “Good morning. I’m so sorry about Friday night, really I am. I—”
Evelyn raised her hand. Molly shut up. “Come in.” Evelyn led the way back into her office. “Take a seat.”
Molly sat with her knees pressed together and her hands clasped in her lap.
Evelyn sat forward in her chair with her elbows resting on her desk. She placed her glasses on the table and rubbed at her eyes before taking a slow sip of water. She then began, “Can I ask what you spoke about with Lydia Wright?”
Lydia? “Yes, certainly. Well, we talked about the Rodin. She asked me if I liked Rodin and I said I did and that we felt excited and proud to have such a prestigious work on display at our museum. She said I was to let her know if ever I returned to Paris to visit the Musée Rodin.”
Evelyn raised her eyebrows. “I see, and was that it?”
“Pretty much. We talked just for a few more moments about the family portraits. She said she remembered them.” This was surely not the time to mention that Lydia had asked after Edith’s painting.
“Thank you for that clarification. Now to the matter of Georgina Wright. What did Georgina mean during her tirade? What did you let Georgina Wright think, Molly?”
Molly pressed her hands further into her lap at the sensation of her stomach dropping. “I’m sorry,” Molly said. “I don’t quite know what you mean.”
“Well it’s clear that Georgina had been expecting something from you, and that you had let her down in some way. She had trusted you. Those were her words were they not? What had she trusted you with? Molly?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
Molly shook her head. What answer could Molly give? Could she really say her heart?
Evelyn sat back in her chair and released a heavy sigh. “I’m sure you appreciate that I cannot ignore the fact that there has been a breach of trust. Not only from the perspective of Georgina Wright but also from my perspective. I trusted you to work with Georgina as a professional member of my team, and I trusted you to follow my instructions. You have shown a wanton lack of care on both accounts.”
Molly swallowed hard. “I’m really sorry for any distress and embarrassment I have caused you and the museum,” Molly said. “And…and for my lack of judgement.” Molly had trusted Georgina as much as Georgina had trusted her. Georgina was not the only one left hurt and confused.
“Apology noted.” Evelyn sat forward again and opened her notepad. She began to make notes. Without looking up she said, “You may as well know that I haven’t spoken to the chairman yet. I want to see if we can salvage things, and by we I mean me. I want to give Georgina time to calm down. And then I will speak to her.”
Molly nodded, “Anything I can do—”
Evelyn raised her hand. “You will have nothing more to do with Georgina Wright. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” Molly said quietly.
“And you will take annual leave with immediate effect. I don’t wish to see you in this museum until after the Christmas period.”
Molly’s heart surged in panic. With barely enough breath to speak she gasped, “You’re suspending me?”
“You have given me no choice.”
“But—” Molly wanted to say But you invited Lydia Wright, you put the museum at risk, you encouraged me to get close to Georgina. It was all you.
Evelyn looked up. “You can go now.”
Molly stood and turned away only to stop. She looked back at Evelyn and took a deep breath. “Have you used me?” Molly said, finding bravery from who knew where. It was what Georgina had accused Evelyn of and what Molly could not help but think.
Evelyn’s neck prickled pink, and this time the rash of colour spread right across her face. “My role is to utilize my staff to the maximum of their potential. Nothing I asked of you was beyond your job description. This meeting is over.” Evelyn returned to making her notes. “It is in your best interest for this conversation to end.”
Molly knew what Evelyn was getting at. She quickly left Evelyn’s office, rushed down the stairs and out into the foyer, and thankfully left the museum before any other staff had arrived. She walked across the square, praying she could make it to Daisy May before breaking down.
Movement outside George Wright’s house caught her eye and caused her to momentarily slow her pace. George’s furniture was being loaded into a van. Molly watched as the sofa was guided precariously down the steps. And then a man dressed in a suit with his hair slicked back carried out a for-sale board. He looked across at her. Molly looked away and headed for Daisy May.
Safe inside, through half-steamed windows, she stared at the man hammering the board into the ground. It felt like with each blow he was striking at her heart, nailing home the brutal point that all was lost.