Beside her, she felt Vanessa stiffen. Janice’s face was white. Slowly, Jilly came down from the ceiling and back to reality and realised the enormity of what she had just done. She glanced behind Janice at the shadow approaching them: Mr. Hutchings.
“My office, please, ladies,” he ordered, his voice stern. “All three of you. Now.”
Dread settled in the pit of her stomach and she felt physically sick as she followed along behind Janice and Vanessa. Really what she most wanted to do was turn and run, but she forced herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other as they headed down the corridor where the partners’ offices were all located. They all filed in through the door and Mr. Hutchings closed it with a click behind them.
“Take a seat.” Mr. Hutchings indicated the chairs against the wall as he seated himself on his leather chair behind his desk.
Jilly sat down. This was it. Her job was over. She’d be both homeless and unemployed very soon, and she would have to beg her parents for help. It would kill her pride to do so, but she’d do it. The alternative was being at the mercy of the overwhelmed social agencies that may or may not be able to help her.
She could hear voices in the background, discussing her no doubt, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying and she didn’t really care. She was completely consumed with wondering what the heck she was going to do. Would she get a redundancy pay-out? Or did that not apply to people who got fired? She wished she knew how the law worked... what to expect. Would she ever see Matthew again?
Tears flowed down her face, dripped off her nose. She stood up. “I can’t do this. I need to go.”
Mr. Hutchings stood up too, rounded his desk, and took her elbow. “I’ll escort you out.”
Walking down the corridor this time really was a walk of shame. She could feel all the eyes on her, disapproving, judgemental. She looked a mess, she knew it. Below her eyes itched where her tears had made her mascara run. She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. Mr. Hutchings felt so intimidating, walking next to her and she could feel displeasure emanating off him in waves.
He waited beside her as she quickly shut down her email program and picked up her handbag. She was sad to be leaving like this, under these circumstances, but it was too bad. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now. She’d just have to find another job, that was all. And a house... she made a very unladylike snort as she choked back a sob and her shoulders shuddered. She picked up the single framed photograph of her daughter that she kept on her desk and stuffed it into her handbag. Mr. Hutchings, like the perfect gentleman, helped her put on her coat.
He didn’t let go of her elbow as he walked with her through the door and pressed the button on the lift. “Will you be okay to drive or would you like me to drive you home?”
She nodded and tried to speak but choked on her voice instead.
“Miss Watson? Look at me.”
He reminded her so much of Matthew that fresh tears stung her eyes. Matthew. Daddy. Leaving him behind hurt her heart worst of all. The prospect of being unemployed and homeless was bad enough, but losing Matthew as well... that was more than she could bear.
She couldn’t look at him, she was too ashamed. She kept her eyes fixed on her shoes but just like Matthew, he put two fingers under her chin and tilted her face up, forcing her to look at him. Just like Matthew, his eyes were both stern and kind.
“I asked you a question. Are you able to drive or would you like me to drive you?”
Being stuck in a car with her soon-to-be-former boss was the last thing she wanted. All she would be able to think about would be Matthew. She blinked, making him blurry again through her tears.
She shook her head as best she could in his firm grip. “I can drive.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then.” He let her go and stepped back. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.” She turned her back on him and stepped into the lift.
Keeping her head down, clutching her bag to her chest, she scurried down the street to the carpark building as fast as she could, walking right on the edge of the footpath to avoid the people. The second she got to her car she shut herself in, locked the door, rested her head on the steering wheel, and cried.
* * *
“Thirteen weeks? You’re kidding me! How am I supposed to survive for thirteen weeks with no income?” Jilly put the phone down in shock. She was screwed. If she’d thought she was desperate before, it was nothing compared to the utter desperation she felt now. Social welfare had been her last hope. She’d had no idea that getting fired for misconduct would mean a three-month stand-down period. Her legs gave out and she slid down the wall, landing in a heap on the floor, tears blurring her vision. Her shoulders shook with sobs. “What am I going to do?”
She didn’t even know how much her final pay would be. She could vaguely remember something in there about forfeiting her holiday pay in lieu of notice but she didn’t have a copy of her contract here so couldn’t check. Not that it mattered. They
