“Well,” said Will when he had enough breath to speak, “it is certainly never dull being with you.”
“Nor you,” she countered. “How is it that we seem unable to be in the same place at the same time without smacking each other about?”
“To be fair, this is only the second time that’s happened.”
She winced as she dragged herself back onto the sofa. Will was stretched out along its length and she perched on the edge next to him, lifting her hand to smooth his hair. “Are you really all right?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I will be. I just … I just need a minute.”
“Mmm, quite. Whisky?” she asked brightly. His body started to shake with laughter, which set her off again. Still giggling, she handed him his glass and he scooched up to a seated position. She took her own glass in hand and raised it. “I’d like to propose another toast,” she said in mock-seriousness. “To my sore head and your sore bollocks.” She purposefully tapped the edge of her glass against Will’s then downed the rest of her whisky in one go.
“Ahh,” she said, wiping the corners of her mouth with a fingertip. She glanced at Will who looked gobsmacked. “Bottoms up,” she said, like some maniacal Mary Poppins.
A slow smile spread over Will’s face as he regarded her. “You’re pretty fantastic, you know.”
“Oh, I do know, yes.” Lucy quite liked this version of herself—confident, daring, hilarious. She watched as Will tipped his head back and finished his whisky. “Another?”
“I’m good for now.”
“Still need a moment?” she eyed his crotch.
“Yes,” he said, shooing her away with a grin. “I need a minute.”
“Right, then I shall check my email!” She leapt up, crossing the room to where her coat hung by the door, and retrieved her phone. As Lucy had guessed, the email was a reply from Angela, and it didn’t take long to read. She’d barely written two lines.
Lucy,
Let’s meet first thing on your return. I’d like to discuss your future at the firm.
Regards,
Angela
“Oh, double bollocks.”
“What? Let me see it.”
Far less ebullient, Lucy walked back to the sofa and sat next to Will. She handed him the phone and watched him frown slightly as he it read through twice.
“It’s not necessarily bad. It could be, ‘hey, you’re a rising star and it was great to hear from you. I’m promoting you!’ Or something like that.”
Lucy, dubious, looked at Will. “Or it was, ‘Your email was completely out of line. Clear out your desk and off you go to Jobcentre Plus’.” Lucy held out her hand for the phone and Will laid it in her palm. She read the email again and frowned. Her mouth pursed in concentration and before she could talk herself out of it, she tapped out a reply.
Dear Angela,
Thank you for your prompt reply. I look forward to discussing my future at the firm, as I am keen to continue developing professionally and agree that I am ready for the next challenge under your stewardship. I’ve CC’d Trevor on this email, as I am sure he will be pleased to hear of this next chapter in our division.
Happy New Year!
Best,
Lucy
She sent the email and blew out a satisfied sigh. Will leant over and read it. “Who’s Trevor?”
“Her manager, the VP of Finance,” she replied simply as she stared off into the fireplace. “The fire!” she declared, jumping up from the sofa. Lucy used the fire iron beside the fireplace to move the coals around, then added two more logs. She stood watching the logs catch, mesmerised by the flames.
“That was awesome,” said Will behind her.
“What, stoking a fire? I should hope so. Three years of Brownies, four years of Guides, and a father who insisted I learn how to look after a fire properly.”
Will chuckled and she turned. “Well, yes, you did lay those logs with a precision I haven’t seen before, but I meant the email.”
“Oh, right. You don’t think I’m going to get a right bollocking for it? She could have me sacked for insolence, you know.”
“Firstly, there is no way she can fire you after that email. Copying her boss in like that was genius. It comes across as genuine, so if she was legit talking about a promotion, you seemed sincerely into that, and if she was going to fire you, well, checkmate. She’s got nowhere to go. She’d come off as spiteful, maybe even delusional.” He got up from the sofa and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You, Lucy Browning, are incredible,” he said softly.
“Really?” All her bravado, the Dutch courage from the whisky—or should that be Scotch courage? she wondered—dissipated and she felt like herself again, trembling under the weight of what she’d just done. What if she lost her job?
“Hey …” Will must have read the consternation on her face. “You have nothing to worry about. If you want, we could call my mom. She’ll tell you the same thing, believe me. You played that perfectly and your job is safe. Okay?”
Lucy nodded absentmindedly as she sifted through everything she was feeling. So much had happened in just a few short days. She’d thought she was coming to a winter wonderland to experience a proper white Christmas, but she’d been hauled into family mini-dramas, there’d been the dilemma with Angela, and she was currently not on speaking terms with one of her best friends.
And then there was Will—gorgeous, lovely Will, who had come here early to set all this up, who was looking at her as though he believed she could do anything.
And he was right, she realised.
She could do anything. She’d just stood up to her bully of a manager. She’d survived the Christmas madness of a large family—happily, she realised, as she thought of Jackie’s brood. She’d even skied down a giant mountain! Granted, it was on the easy slopes, but she had done it. Her! Lucy Browning, from Penham, Oxfordshire had accomplished more
