The Ladies' Midnight Swimming Club(10)

‘Might as well suck it up, buddy; sometimes timing stinks,’ Clive said under his breath as Leah made her way past them in a cloud of expensive perfume and a skirt too short for her skinny legs.

‘Let’s get this over with.’ She snapped her fingers and flung open the door into her newly remodelled office. Throwing her expensive coat across one of the two chairs available for Dan and Clive, the message was clear: one would be staying, the other was going and no prizes for guessing which direction Dan was headed. ‘I’m gonna cut to the chase here, boys,’ she said, sitting against the side of her desk, so there could be no question of anyone getting too comfortable.

‘Leah, it’s clear that…’ Clive began, but she put up a hand to stop him and Dan knew he wouldn’t get the chance to say anything to try and save his bacon. It was a done deal. It had played into Leah’s hands and there wasn’t a word he could say to change his fate now, except…

‘I’m glad we’re getting this chance to clear the air,’ Dan said then, walking bravely behind her desk so she had to almost contort herself to follow his voice. ‘You see, if you’re prepared to agree a fair severance package, I’m happy to walk, but…’

‘What the?’

‘Yes, I’ve had legal advice.’ It was lies, but he was working on only one premise: he wasn’t going to walk out of here like the sacrificial lamb they expected him to be. ‘It’s like this: I have other projects I want to pursue, but I’ll need a cushion, so…’

‘After the debacle that you’re responsible for, you’re bloody lucky that we’re not suing you…’ A look passed between Clive and Leah and it became clear to Dan that he was always going to be the first casualty of the takeover.

‘You might want to paint it like that, but there isn’t a labour court in England that’s going to agree with you. If you’re sacking me without so much as an acknowledgement of the good work I’ve done for this company, long before you came, well…’ Dan’s voice petered off because he really was walking on the very thinnest of ice.

‘How much?’ Leah could be trusted to want to keep them out of court. They’d all heard the rumour that she’d lost too many legal battles already with embittered staff who had seen an opportunity to bite back. Dan leant forward, scribbled the first amount that came into his head on the desk blotter and turned it towards her. ‘Okay, but you’re outta here today. I want your desk cleared, I want your keys handed in and I’ll have this sorted into your bank account by the end of the week.’

‘I’d like something in writing, too, just in relation to… just to make our severance official,’ Dan said calmly. The reality was, he wouldn’t trust Leah not to say he hadn’t embezzled the company once his severance package arrived in his account.

And that was how he found himself, sitting in a bar, with a condemnatory cardboard box at his feet, getting too slowly drunk for his own liking. It seemed like his only option when he’d slunk out of the production offices earlier. Knowing that he’d be the talk of the coffee room for the rest of the day didn’t help to raise his spirits very much either. There were, he tried to convince himself, other jobs. There were other production companies. For goodness’ sake, if Leah actually paid up he could probably set up his own production company, on a small scale to start. The problem was he wasn’t sure he wanted this life anymore.

None of it.

He didn’t want to work in television. He didn’t want to live in that crumpled flat that wasn’t much bigger than a wardrobe. He didn’t want to live in London – he wasn’t even sure he wanted to live in the United Kingdom with the way the country had turned out since Brexit. He was a mixed-race, single man, living beyond his means, in a country run by right-wing politicians who cajoled him for a vote so they could legislate against him. He wasn’t even sure that England was home to him anymore. In fact, and this was the niggling whisper that his moderate amount of professional success had managed to silence for the last few years, he wasn’t sure that this country had ever been his home in the first place.

As Dan became drunker, these were the thoughts that careered about his head. A heavy hand on his back almost made him jump from his skin. Harry. Harry White was everything Dan was not. Everything about him screamed success, from his public schoolboy background to his astronomical success first as a talent scout and now as an agent to some of the biggest names in British media.

‘Come and work for me,’ he said as he ordered two large glasses of whiskey for them.

‘It’s not just the job…’ Dan said and he waved his hand as if to bat away a thousand other unmentionable worries.

‘No?’

‘No.’ Dan stopped, saw their reflections in the glass behind the bar opposite and in a flashing moment of sober thought, said, ‘It’s bigger than that. I can get another job in the morning, probably one that pays better than working for Leah, certainly one I’d be happier doing.’

‘But?’ Harry was watching him now; maybe he already knew.

‘I need some time out, to…’ Dan wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. Find himself? Wasn’t that what women did? They went off and they ate, prayed and loved? Dan had no interest eating or praying, never mind about loving. ‘I want to figure things out,’ he settled on.