They spent Easter before she was due to return to work at Tom’s parents’ house in Edinburgh, in their two-up two-down, which had clearly not been touched since 1973.
‘We’re only staying two nights,’ Tom reminded her under his breath as they piled out of the estate car Tom had finally upgraded to, and made their way up the path, her carrying Callum, Sadie holding Tom’s hand as if for dear life.
Though she had been dreading this trip and the prospect of playing happy families with Graham and Elsie – envisaging the rations of overcooked lamb before After Eights on the sofa with a highlighted copy of the Radio Times – in the end she rather enjoyed the change of scene. Knowing, as she did, that she would be starting a new role the week they got back, working under Madeleine’s leadership, Gabriela felt a tension lift.
Watching her children play in the garden the morning after they arrived, hunting for the stash of colourful chocolate eggs Tom had smuggled in in spite of his mother’s distaste for such commercialisation of a sacred holiday, she savoured the brisk air rubbing against her cheeks, making them tingle.
It was the closest to contentment she had felt in a long time.
‘So when is Callum starting nursery?’ Elsie addressed them over breakfast the next morning, and Gabriela felt Tom’s muscles tense beside her.
‘He’s going to be with me for a while, like Sadie was,’ he replied with a forthrightness that made the corners of Gabriela’s mouth lift in appreciation.
Elsie raised her eyebrows, and Graham cleared his throat.
‘That’s right, with me,’ Tom answered the unspoken question, smiling intently at his father. ‘We think it’s important that he’s at home for as long as possible.’
‘I agree, I always thought it was so important that a child stays with its mother,’ Elsie replied without missing a beat, chewing her single slice of toast with such slight movements of the mouth that it was a wonder she ever made it through more than a single mouthful in one sitting.
Before Gabriela could say anything, she felt Tom’s foot pressing against hers under the table. When she looked at him, he was fixing her with a gaze that pleaded with her not to bother, and so she didn’t.
Working with Madeleine as the senior lead in London felt like a new lease of life. Madeleine was so straightforward, so gloriously capable and trusting of those to whom she delegated, and the sense of growth Gabriela felt under her reign was liberating.
While Madeleine coordinated with government agencies in Vietnam, it was Gabriela’s job – with the help of a small team – to garner interest and negotiate ways of working not just to prevent trafficking to the UK but to support victims, liaising with relevant departmental leads whilst bringing these services together on the ground.
Eventually, Madeleine said, there would be the chance of another secondment, to one of the countries involved in the trafficking chain, anywhere from Pakistan to Belarus. But for now it was about forging relationships, setting up teams who could coordinate efforts from the UK.
Any concerns Gabriela might have had about potential tensions arising at home from her escalated role at work were immediately put at ease. If she’d worried Tom would feel resentful of the increasing time and resources she was ploughing into the job, there was no need. Almost the opposite was true; the harder she worked, the more satisfied she was when she came home. And the more delineated the roles between them were, the better they worked together as a team, even if inevitably compromises had to be made.
‘A place has come up for two days a week at the children’s centre. There’s an open day, I thought we could have a look around,’ Tom said one afternoon, calling her as she was heading into a meeting.
‘When is it?’ she asked.
‘Thursday.’
‘Shit, I can’t make it,’ Gabriela said. ‘You go, tell me what it’s like.’
There was a pause. ‘But I think it’s important we both see it.’
Another member of the team walked past into the meeting room and Gabriela smiled at her, indicating she’d only be a moment more. ‘Tom, what am I supposed to do, ask for a day off at this short notice? Come on, it’s nursery. Anyway, I’ll have a look at the Ofsted – and you have a look around. I trust you to make the right choice.’
‘Sure,’ he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. ‘I just thought you might want to be part of it.’
Despite the inevitable blips that were surely part and parcel of family life, soon things fell into a satisfying rhythm, that first year working with Madeleine. With Sadie part-time in the children’s centre, Tom was freed up to take on a small residential project, working on weekends and while Callum napped. As the months passed, Callum began to sleep through the night. The following year, as September drew nearer, so too approached the moment when Sadie, who was turning four, would move into the school nursery, freeing up even more time. At last, Gabriela conceded, it was impossible not to believe the stars were aligning.
Then, just after Madeleine had come back from Hanoi, and they were starting to make proper progress in the office, the summons came from the Permanent Under-Secretary’s office.
Not one to shy away from a public showdown, the big boss chose mid-morning on the Monday before the Commons broke up for summer recess to hold the one-on-one meeting, ensuring the maximum audience in front of whom to wield his axe. Gabriela was waiting at the bottom of the staircase while he and Madeleine talked, their voices rising from the room like balls being thwacked across a tennis court.
‘But you can’t do this … He can’t do this!’ Madeleine’s voice rang from behind the closed door. When it swung open twenty minutes later and she ran down the stairs, her fury left a trail beneath the portraits of countless men with all the power of empire at their disposal.
Gabriela followed her out of the building. ‘Madeleine, stop, talk to me – what’s going on, what did he say?’ They were halfway down the street before she finally slowed down, her body trembling as she reached into her bag for a cigarette.
‘He’s pulling the plug,’ she said simply, flicking repeatedly at the flint until the flame appeared and she inhaled deeply, as if gasping for life. ‘Fucking bastard,’ her teeth were gritted and her eyes shone with astonished rage.
‘What? Who?’
‘Emsworth,’ she said, spitting his name. ‘Who do you think? Apparently there are funding issues across the whole organisation, cuts need to be made and we are deemed dispensable. He claims he can absorb our roles into his department.’
‘But he can’t— What do you mean?’
‘Oh, don’t be so bloody naive, Gabriela. Of course he can. He already has.’
Gabriela was so dumbstruck that she didn’t go after Madeleine, her feet cemented to the pavement as she moved away, and with her the prospect of any meaningful future disappearing into the distance; the tsunami drawing back, preparing to strike.
As she settled back at her desk a while later, ignoring the concerned looks of her colleagues trying to catch her eye from their desks, the adrenaline only now beginning to pulse through her body, she found an email from Serena.
What’s going on?
Inhaling, she deleted the message.
If she had given it more thought, she might have prevented at least some of what was to follow. But maybe, she would wonder later on, she didn’t want to think too deeply about what was really happening. Maybe she was too busy thinking about herself.
‘Everything OK?’ Tom asked that evening as she stormed into the kitchen, throwing down her bag and filling the closest glass with wine.
‘Mama!’ Sadie ran to her and, without thinking, Gabriela pushed her away. ‘Not now, please, I just need a minute.’
Sadie whirled round and raced out of the room, tears brimming. Gabriela lifted her hands to her face.
‘Mummy just needs to decompress,’ she heard Tom say as he closed the door behind her and Gabriela instantly regretted her briskness. And yet, as Tom walked back into the room, her mind went back to her day at work. How could she tell him? If the department was being torn apart and she was about to be made redundant or shifted across somewhere she didn’t want to be, in order to survive her focus now had to be on making herself indispensable, to cling on with both hands.
However she presented it to him, she knew that he would support and cajole, as needed. Most likely, he would conclude that this break in the trajectory of her career provided an excuse for them to hang out together more, to go on the long-haul family holiday they had been planning but never managed. They didn’t need the money so badly that she would have to find another full-time job straight away. She could retrain, in something more flexible. Tom could take on more projects, which would enable her to take a step back for a while, spend more time with the kids, with him. She’d envied them briefly, hadn’t she? The women she’d met at the stay-and-play on the Heath she’d taken Sadie to when Callum was born. But it wasn’t their life she wanted, it was their complacency. How she wished she too could be content with a life at home, the endless hours spent milling between playground and library and various playgroups, singing rotations of the same songs, out of tune.
She tried to picture it again: chatting with the other mothers at the school gate, signing up to the PTA, perhaps to stand as a governor. Mentally, she drew the image: filling the days between drop-off and pick-up, running errands, doing household chores; she might feel compelled to take up a hobby, join the local choir.
‘Gaby?’
She looked up at Tom and after a moment’s pause, she swallowed.
‘Everything’s fine.’