Chapter One

“I’m sorry, Eleri. Please, don’t blame yourself.”

Don’t blame myself? Don’t blame myself?

In Eleri Martin’s mind, the only person to blame was the stuffed shirt sitting opposite her. He looked so comfortable there in his expensive leather office chair, against a backdrop of big bay window and costly venetian blinds.

She clenched her small hands into fists and suppressed the urge to show him just who she blamed with the year’s worth of martial arts classes she’d taken. And why had she taken those? Why, to relieve the stress of her job.

A job she’d just lost, through no fault of her own, through her manager’s inability to inform his team of correct deadlines.

There had been a lottery, to ensure layoffs were “fair.”

Fair, my ass, Eleri thought miserably.

Her aforementioned manager, Henry Gilham, the pig, the bastard, the fat-ass, swivelled slightly in his chair. He steepled his fingers. He looked a little bit like Mr. Burns in The Simpsons, and was just as evil. Perhaps more, because he didn’t have a nice assistant like Mr. Smithers to counteract his evilness.

“So, Ms. Martin, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to clear your desk by five this evening. Stop by Human Resources on the way out-” he reached into a drawer in his massive, daily-polished oak desk “-I’ve made sure they’ll give you a good reference.”

Eleri took the envelope and stared at it for a long moment. The phrase this is so unfair fizzled on her tongue, but she left it unsaid, knowing it would do her little good.

Be calm, be calm. Do not unleash the fist of death.

She stood, determined not to teeter on the three-inch heels she normally walked so confidently, so easily, on. Then she faced Henry, and, after swallowing hard, said, “I’ve worked for you for five years. I’ve worked late and I’ve worked weekends to meet your deadlines. And instead of a five-year congratulations or thank you – this, this is what I get?”

Henry spread his hands in a gesture that said, sorry, can’t help you. “That’s the way the cookie crumbles, El. We’re downsizing, and that has its casualties.”

If you hadn’t got the fucking deadline date wrong, I wouldn’t be here. But she didn’t say that. She wanted to hang on to what she still did have – the written promise of a good reference.

When Henry just made the “what can I do?” gesture, Eleri mentally pictured him having a terrible accident involving the window breaking and him falling the forty or so feet straight down.

Unfortunately, it was only a fantasy. Eleri didn’t indulge in fantasy often, but this had been pretty satisfying.

She left Henry’s office, resisting the urge to slam the door behind her. There’d be plenty of time for tantrums when she got home.

Home. That made her start with fear. How would she pay her rent now? She was going to have to find another job soon. While the severance package that Henry had mentioned was rather generous, in a town like San Francisco it wasn’t going to last that long, especially as the rent on her upscale apartment was pretty high.

Perhaps she would have to suffer having her home downsized, as well as her career.

She stalked into the executive bathroom – the one she’d only have access to for three more hours. Might as well make the most of it.

Eleri stood before the oval mirror in the restroom, and stared at herself. She saw the reflection of what she expected: someone who looked overworked and tired.

Her blonde hair felt as if it was pulled too tight into the bun at the nape of her neck. Suddenly eager to feel free, she pulled out the pins. They scattered on to the floor and into the sink. Her hair tumbled free, wavy and the colour of bright sunshine on a summer’s day. She massaged her head, sighing and tipping her neck back. Boy, that feels good.

Her cornflower-blue eyes looked worryingly watery. Eleri knew a good cry was waiting for her when she got home. Not a sad, heartbroken cry, but more a cry of frustration and helplessness.

Bad luck, that’s what it was.

But come on, she secretly chided Henry. She’d been there for five years. Weren’t there some people he could have removed from the lottery on account of their sheer hard work?

Eleri had been a marketing executive who had worked her way up to Assistant Head of Advertising. Her artwork graced many a billboard in San Francisco. God only knew how much money Henry and his bigwigs had made thanks to her.

And now here she was, staring at herself in the executive bathroom, her hair wild and her eyes teary.

She scrabbled in the breast pocket of her suit jacket and flipped open her silver cell phone. The company cell phone. She could kiss goodbye to that, as well.

Might as well make one last call before it was deactivated/recycled/given to Henry’s new favourite, whoever she would be. Eleri’s mouth quirked in a wry smile. It would definitely be a she.

She dialled Brad’s number. Steadfast, predictable Brad. He would know what to do.

His mobile rang four times, and then she heard the familiar voice of her boyfriend: “Hi, you’ve reached Brad Homewood’s voicemail. Sorry I can’t speak right now, but leave your name and number, and I’ll call back as soon as I can.”

Eleri hesitated when the beep sounded in her ear. Finally she said, “Brad, baby, it’s me. Call me, okay? Bye.”

Maybe she could move in with Brad until she found a new job. Maybe.

She closed her eyes and an image of Brad’s bachelor pad came to mind – all sleek lines and black and white and chrome. It was really a bachelor’s place. Even his bed looked like it belonged to a single man. It had cost him thousands and the sheets on it were always silk.

But even so – they’d been dating for over a year now. Surely he’d be amenable to a guest for a few weeks. It would mean sex on tap for him. She’d even offer to make breakfast and dinner for the first few nights.

I’m sure he’ll be cool with it.

I guess I’ll soon find out.

She snapped the phone shut and slipped it back in her pocket. Her fingers brushed the soft inner layer of her tailored suit jacket, and she thought: I guess I’m saying goodbye to tailored suits from Chanel as well.

She left the bathroom, and almost collided with her friend and colleague, Mia.

“Hey.” Mia grabbed her by the shoulders. “What happened? I’ve been on edge in the office for what feels like hours.”

Eleri squared her shoulders. “I’m outta here.”

“What?” Mia seemed outraged, and Eleri felt a bit better. “For fuck’s sake, you’ve worked here for five years – you're Assistant Head of Advertising! What’ll they do without you?”

Eleri felt tears burn at the back of her eyes, tears of relief that someone aside from her saw the ridiculousness of this situation. “I’m sure they’ll soldier on.”

“Maybe.” Mia smoothed down Eleri’s jacket in a motherly motion of tenderness. “But it won’t be as good. Who am I going to rate celebrity outfits with first thing in the morning? Who will work late with me and try all the new coffees that Starbucks brings out?”

Eleri smiled a small smile and shrugged. “I’m don’t know. Maybe I can still email you my verdict on pictures from Oscar nights.”

Mia hugged her hard. “That’s my girl. Now, make me happy and tell me that you’ve got an offer of a job from Barnes & Hogan.

Barnes & Hogan was Gilham Advertising's main rival. Eleri smiled at the notion of it. “Maybe I’ll apply,” she grinned. “What can it hurt? Besides-” she waved the envelope “-Henry has promised me a good reference. In writing, as well.”

--

Eleri stopped by a grocery store after clearing her desk. She bought a horrendous amounts of Ben & Jerry’s, some raspberry sorbet, a box of chocolates, three kinds of cake, and a bag of freshly cooked fried chicken.

She got into her car and started with the fried chicken. It was delicious. It was so good that she almost felt better about the layoff.

Almost.

When she was done with that, she didn’t quite feel like going home. Home to her lonely apartment. So she drove to her sister’s place.

Susie Martin lived a few miles from her sister, and could usually be counted upon to be home as she had her own business – making cakes. She’d made hundreds in the three years she had been in business: cakes shaped like busty women’s torsos, cakes shaped like cars, cakes shaped like horses. Often Eleri liked to drop by just to see what weird and wonderful creation was next.

She rung the security buzzer outside her sister’s block of flats, a carton of Ben & Jerry’s in her arms.

“Hello?”

“Suze, it’s El.”

“Hi, hon. Come up, I’m making a cake replica of a check.”

This I’ve gotta see, Eleri thought. The door buzzed and she pushed it open, then climbed the stairs instead of the lift. I guess I'll need the workout, now that I no longer have a pass to the company gym.

Susie was standing in the doorway when Eleri reached the second floor. She lowered her brows. “What’d you take the stairs for? The lifts aren’t broken.”

“I know. But… Oh, long story.” She held up the carton of ice cream. It had long been a symbol of bad news between the sisters.

Susie adjusted the headscarf she wore to protect her dark blonde hair against dough, flour, eggs and icing. “What happened? You’d better come in.”

Eleri almost sagged in relief. She followed her sister into Susie’s living room, then through to the kitchen. The oven was on and the glorious smell of cake-baking filled the room.

“Let’s see this check, then,” Eleri smiled, dumping the ice cream pot on the kitchen counter.

“Here.” Susie lifted a protective wire dome.

Eleri gasped. “It’s gorgeous.”

The cake was an exact replica of a bank cheque, right down to the birthday celebrant’s name on the “payee” line.

“He works for a bank, apparently,” Susie said dryly. “Although why you’d want to be reminded of work on your birthday, I have no idea.”

“No,” Eleri agreed. And then she crumbled. Before she knew it she was gripping on to the kitchen counter for dear life, her legs buckling beneath her, tears pouring hot and fast down her cheeks.

Susie rushed to hold her, accidentally smearing flour on the skirt of her Chanel suit. Once Eleri would have scolded her, but now she was just glad of the affectionate contact.

When all the tears were gone, Eleri took a dishcloth from her sister and dried her eyes.

Susie sat on a stool at the counter and patted one beside her. “Sit down, sweetie, and tell me what’s happened.”

Eleri related the whole thing, from getting a call from Henry’s PA to clearing her desk and buying the ice cream.

Susie checked on the kitten-shaped cake in the oven, and then said, “Honey, that’s terrible. I can’t believe he could do that to you. After all your hard work.”

Eleri opened the ice cream carton. Susie got two spoons for a cupboard to her left, and the two sisters ate in companionable silence for a long moment. Finally Susie said, “You know what, though?”

“What?”

“Maybe Henry’s done you a favour. In a roundabout way.”

Eleri almost choked on her ice cream. “Explain how. In words of three syllables or less.”

Susie turned the oven down. Eleri didn’t know what smelled more delicious: the cake or the ice cream.

“El, when was the last time you had a holiday? A proper holiday? With a beach, and a fling, and alcohol?”

Eleri dug her spoon in for more ice cream and made a pffft noise. “I go on holidays.”

“El,” Susie pressed. “Haven’t you and Brad ever been on a dirty weekend?”

Eleri laughed out loud. “I don’t think the word “Brad” and the phrase “dirty weekend” go together.”

Susie threw up her hands with a sigh. “Why the hell not? Both of you have stressful jobs. Blow off some steam someplace that has a built-in Jacuzzi and a four-poster bed.”

Eleri shook her head. “That might’ve been an option before I got laid off.”

“What about Bronwyn?” Susie asked, as a spark lit in her mind.

Eleri licked ice cream from the tip of her spoon. Ben & Jerry’s were heroes. “Who… Oh, our cousin? What about her? Doesn’t she live in England?”

“Wales, to be exact. Every Christmas she writes and invites us to go spend a few weeks in her home. She’s got a pretty big one since her father died last year – she inherited his estate you know.”

Eleri continued to single-mindedly eat ice cream. “So?”

Susie rolled her eyes. “I mean, why don’t you use this opportunity to have a holiday over in Wales? You won’t need to pay for accommodation, you’ll already have a friend to show you about.” Susie nudged her sister. “Learn to relax. Get a hobby.”

Eleri made that pfft noise again. “I have a hobby.”

“No. You have Brad, and you go to the gym. Dating and working out are not hobbies. I mean like sewing, or writing poetry, or… Oh, I don’t know! Something that gives you a creative outlet.”

“Not everyone is creative,” Eleri countered.

Susie went to the corkboard hanging above her workspace and took down a little business card. “You designed that. That’s art, El. You can’t do something like that and tell me you aren’t creative. I’ll bet you could do something beautiful with oil or watercolour. Wales has some nice scenery, you know. Good to paint.”

Eleri let her eyes drift closed. It would be nice to hear the birds singing. It would be nice to see what I could do with a free afternoon, some brushes and some canvas. It would be nice to sit on a plane and know that a meeting or conference doesn’t await me when we land…

Then reality intervened. “Suze, I have a life here.”

“Yeah, and am I asking you to give that up? How generous was Henry’s severance package?”

“Quite generous.”

“And do you have enough in your savings to justify a return flight to Wales?”

Eleri cast her mind back to the high interest savings account she had opened when she’d started working at Homewood’s. She had put exactly twelve percent of her salary into it each month. She hadn’t checked it for a year.

“I guess it must be pretty full by now,” she mused.

Susie took her sister’s hand. “Think about it,” she pleaded. “Talk to Brad, and think about it. It’d do you some good. You always look stressed. I really think a week without deadlines would be great for you.”

“I look set to have more than a week free of deadlines,” Eleri replied, surprised to see she’d eaten almost all the ice cream. She shoved it towards her sister. “I’m out of a job, remember?”

Susie cocked her head to one side. “I know you, El. You’ll start applying for new jobs tonight, and your resume is glowing, so you’ll probably be hired within a few days. Just listen to me for once, okay? Take a break.”

--

A/N - I hope you enjoyed this! It's something that I have been thinking about for a while, but I thought I would start it now, just to have a short break from Will Campbell & Co! But don't worry, I plan on updating Life is Better in Paperback soon.