She had half a mind to turn the car round and offer that Rachel Woolly a piece of her mind.
Voluntary redundancy.
As if anyone in Flo’s immediate circle would believe for a split second she’d left a job voluntarily. She’d been all but pushed out of the airplane when, at sixty-five, BA had deemed her too expensive to keep around. Oh, they’d said it was something to do with the vision test, but she knew a spade when she saw one. They’d called that voluntary redundancy as well.
Bloody pack of liars. She would’ve happily flown round the globe with them until she was dead. Wasn’t that what glasses were for? The thought pulled her up short. Short-sightedness, she supposed, was her problem. Everyone, apart from her, could see the pearly gates looming. But honestly. Being let go from 111? Was she really unable to ‘embrace a modern approach to health care’ as Rachel had suggested?
Bollocks to that. What that girl had needed was a bit of sound advice—
‘Oh, crumbs. Would you look at that?’ Sue had gone through a traffic light just as it had turned amber. Flo had considered flooring it, then, remembering she already had six points on her license, lurched to a stop. Sue probably wanted a bit of me time before Raven moved in anyhow. Perhaps a stop off at the off license for a bit of fizz would be a good idea. And some nibbles. Maybe a balloon or two might be in order. Fresh start and all that. For Raven. Obviously. And Sue.
How on earth was she going to go home and tell Stuart?
She couldn’t. Not yet. She barely had the capacity to admit the unexpected ‘window of freedom’ terrified the daylights out of her. Yet another chance for Stu and Jennifer to harangue her about finally hanging up her hat, sinking into the other, as yet unused recliner, for a life of sedentary observation. No. No. She simply could not sit back and watch the rest of her life pass her by. It was bad enough bearing witness to Stu slowly being absorbed by the beige surrounds of retirement.
She was going to have do something. Something big. Something that made an impact, like that Kath off the telly. Maybe she’d join her. She was asking for people to sign up every day. Said the donations were rolling in, but not so much the riders. Perhaps this ‘window of freedom’ was, in fact, a window of opportunity.
Yes. Yes.
The idea was settling in in the way a lovely pool of gravy did round a Sunday lunch. Warming.
‘I’ll not be a minute, love.’ She gave Raven’s knee a pat. ‘Thought I’d get us some bubbles to celebrate your big move.’
Flo let the idea blossom and grow as she shopped.
How long had it been since she’d gone out exploring? In Britain, no less. And for a worthy cause. Even Stu couldn’t balk at that, raising money for a mental health charity that actually did let callers listen and call handlers give advice on something the caller actually wanted advice on.
She sniffed a bit indignantly. Imagine. A thirty-something snip of a girl telling her how the world worked. She’d definitely have to put the plan in place before she told Stu about her change of working circumstances. If he had even a whiff of a window, he’d be booking another trip to Portugal. The wi-fi there was awful so job hunting would be difficult, and the exercise classes at the ‘village centre’ were too bloody boring to blow off any steam. Chair Zumba! Silver Swimmers! Not on your life.
After she’d zipped back to the car with a bottle of something fizzy and pink, Flo suddenly remembered seeing Raven in Rachel’s office as well. Double crumbs. She hadn’t been nattering on about being fired when the same thing had happened to Raven, had she?
‘What was your chat with Rachel, about, love? Anything nice?’
‘Oh, it was …’ Raven’s fingers worked overtime weaving themselves together in different patterns as Flo pulled the car out into surprisingly busy rush-hour traffic. ‘She just wanted to tell me about the counselling they had after … umm … difficult calls.’
‘Oh, did you get a bad one? I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘It probably should’ve been 999,’ Raven wouldn’t meet her eye.
Just like the call she’d had from Sue, then. Interesting, Flo thought. No one had pulled her into an office and offered her a sweet cup of tea after her call. Why hadn’t they offered Flo counselling instead of slapping her with a red card? Sure. She may have had two warnings already, but no one had ever suggested ways to offer these poor, emotionally challenged people who rang in, hearts on their sleeves, loneliness pouring out of them like water, some actual useful advice. A listening ear was all they wanted. Someone to care.
Targets. Deadlines. Scripts.
Life didn’t ruddy work to a pull-down menu, did it? After forty-odd years of flying round the world in a sardine can, the stories she could tell. Saw people at their best and their worst, she had. Dealt with them all in her own inimitable way whilst adhering to health and safety. Going off script didn’t mean she was an idiot. It meant she solved problems.
‘Thanks for driving me, anyway,’ Raven said, suddenly lunging forward, both hands on the dash as Flo took a turn a bit later than anticipated. ‘Sue looked a bit stressed.’
‘The poor lass is going through a lot right
