“He’s firing me,” she whispers.
“What?” I’m astounded, almost wanting to laugh at the idea. “No.”
“Yes.” Her face is ashen and she’s staring blindly ahead. “Alex has come here to see me, obviously.” She counts off on her fingers, as though working out a logic problem. “If he wanted a meeting, he’d have made contact. He hasn’t. So he wants to take me by surprise. There’s only one reason for that: He’s letting me go. Asking me to resign. However he does it.”
“But…” I’m so shocked, I find myself sitting down in the swamp too. “But why would they fire you? You’re the boss! You’re the genius! You’re the whole thing.”
Demeter gives a weird little laugh and turns to face me. “You haven’t been in touch with anyone from work, have you?”
“Not really,” I say uncomfortably. “I knew things were going a bit wrong….”
“Well. They went a lot wrong. And I don’t even understand how. I don’t understand…”
Demeter slowly bends her head to her knees. Her damp hair falls forward, off her neck, and I see her gray roots showing at the base of her skull. The sight makes her seem suddenly vulnerable once more. It’s the side she’s trying to keep from the world—like that moment with Carlo. And as I watch her, curled up like a hiding animal, I feel a weird, unfamiliar feeling. Like I want to pat her back reassuringly.
“Look,” I venture. “It might not be what you think. Maybe he’s come here on holiday. He might have seen the brochure on your desk, decided to book himself a little break….”
Demeter raises her head. “Do you really think so?”
I can see hope battling with despair on her mud-splattered face. “Well, it’s possible. After all, the brochure is really good….” I risk a little wink at Demeter, and she laughs, her tension briefly lifting.
“It is really good. I stand by everything I said before: You’ve got talent, Katie. The truth is, I should never have let you go. I should have got rid of that good-for-nothing Flora instead. You were always more proactive, more lively—” Her face jolts with realization. “Wait. It was you!” She jabs a finger. “You came up with the cow-welfare idea, didn’t you? It’s the basis of the whole rebrand.”
“Oh. Well, yes. It was me.”
Hope is flowering in my chest. Maybe Demeter…maybe she’ll…
“I’d love to help you with your career,” says Demeter, as though reading my mind. “Especially now I know who you really are. But there won’t be much chance of that if I lose my job—” She interrupts herself, her eyes suddenly sharp. “Oh my God, I have it. Katie, you find out for me. You find out.”
“What?” I gape at her.
“Go and talk to Alex as soon as he arrives. Make conversation. Find out if he’s here to let me go. You can do it, I know you can.”
“But—”
“Please.” She grabs my hands. “Please. If I know he’s come to fire me, I can put together a defense. I’ll have half a chance to save myself. Please, Katie, please…”
And I don’t know if it’s because finally she’s got my name right or if it’s the wretched look in her eye, or just that I feel I’ve been mean enough to her for one holiday, but I find myself slowly nodding.
I’ve never seen someone properly stagger in shock before.
But Alex does. He staggers as soon as he sees me. He’s genuinely staggered. (To be fair, he’s walking down a grassy bank at the time, which might have something to do with it.)
We’re in the only little bit of formal garden we have at the farm—it’s just a tiny lawn and some flower beds, with a bank leading down to the field where all the yurts are. It’s where we take glampers for their welcome cup of tea. Biddy must have done the same with Alex.
“Jesus.” He whips off his sunglasses and squints at me with a hand shielding his brow. “Katie. I mean, Cat. I mean…Is that you?”
It’s midday and a lot has happened since my confrontation with Demeter—most of it involving soap and loofahs. There was a lot of mud to clean off.
I discovered as soon as I got back to the farmhouse that Alex had called ahead and was about half an hour away. Demeter’s main concern was that Alex shouldn’t find her and fire her before she’d had a chance to prepare a defense. So I found her a hiding place in the woodshed, and she thanked me in a humble, grateful way.
I’m feeling like perhaps I didn’t know Demeter at all at Cooper Clemmow. Not the real Demeter. I want to talk to her again. Peel back the veneer even more. Find out who she is underneath all the success and designer clothes and name-dropping.
But right now that’s not the priority. The priority is that I’ve made her a promise—whether that was wise or not—and I must do my best to keep it. Even though the sight of Alex is throwing me off-balance quite considerably. Even though there’s a ticker-tape headline running through my brain: He’s not sleeping with Demeter after all….He’s not sleeping with Demeter after all….
Argh. Stop it, brain. So he’s not sleeping with Demeter. What does that mean? Nothing. He might be sleeping with someone else. He might be in love with someone else. He might not find me remotely attractive. (Most likely. Indeed, even more likely, given our last encounter.)
During my shower I rewound and replayed my entire history with Alex, and it made me want to die. Let’s face it, the last time I saw him, I was yelling at him that he was “fucking entitled.” I was also telling him how I had thought we had a “spark” between us. (Who does that? Answer: only me, Katie, the world’s least adept traveler on the journey of Finding A Man And Not Fucking It Up.)