Page 2 of The Holiday Cottage

“The deadline is lunchtime, Anya. We can do this!”

“Relax, Imogen. You’re going to get white hair and wrinkles before your time. You have so much energy you make me want to lie down. It will get done. It always does.” Anya dismissed the deadline, and Imogen felt her stress levels ratchet up another notch.

It did get done, but only because she invariably ended up doing it herself. She really liked Anya, which made it even harder. “Anya—”

“I know. You’re stressed. And I understand why.”

“You do?” Hearing that came as a relief. Maybe Anya was more aware of work pressures than she’d thought.

“Of course. How can you be calm when your lovely Midas is ill? I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this to yourself. I’d be totally freaking out.”

Midas?

“I—”

“What does the vet say? When will they let him out? You must be worried sick. It’s okay to be honest. We’re a team. We’re here to support each other. You’re allowed to be human, Imogen. We can cover for you if needed. We can do your work.”

Imogen blinked. Anya didn’t seem able to do her own work, let alone anyone else’s, but this probably wasn’t the time to point that out.

“Well, I—”

“Anya’s right,” Janie said. “You don’t have to hold it in. I mean, this is Midas. He’s your baby.” She reached across the desk and picked up the photo Imogen kept on her desk. “Look at that face. Poor boy. I’m sure Rosalind would give you time off if you explained. She was amazing when Buster had that lump on his leg. I suppose because she’s a dog lover herself. She gets it.”

“That’s why I love this place,” Anya said. “Everyone is so human. The last place I worked no one talked about anything personal. It was like working with a bunch of robots. Nightmare.”

A place where no one talked about anything personal? Imogen was starting to wonder if that might be preferable. She loved her colleagues, but she would have loved them even more if they shared her work ethic.

But there was no denying that her colleagues were good people, even if most of the time they seemed to fit work around their personal life.

Janie looked close to tears as she held the photo of Midas, and Imogen reached across and gently removed it from her fingers.

“I’d rather not talk about it.” She placed the photograph back on her desk, next to the one of her family. In her last job they’d had a hot desk system, and no one had been allowed to display a single personal item. RPQ Events was a very different place.

There were plants and a fish tank, and people were encouraged to personalize their workstations. Anya’s computer was framed by fairy lights, and no one seemed to mind.

Glancing around her on her first day, Imogen had seen everything from fluffy mascots to family photos. She’d stared at her stark, empty desk and decided she needed to do something about it.

Come on, Imogen, show us your family, Janie had said cheerfully, and Anya had nodded agreement.Do you have any pets? We’re all animal lovers here. Even Danny. He’ll tell you he bought the rabbits for his daughters, but don’t believe him for a second.

She’d never had a personal photo on her desk before, but here the absence of it drew attention so she’d done the same. She’d appreciated how welcoming they were and wanted to be part of the team, so she’d carefully selected one photo of Midas and one family photo taken at Christmas. Everyone was huddled together, laughing for the camera as they struggled not to lose their footing in the snow. Imogen loved that photo. Everyone looked sohappy.

“We’re here for you, Imogen.” Janie reached across and rubbed Imogen’s shoulder in a show of solidarity. “You’re so brave and strong. It must be awful not having your furry friend there to greet you when you get home. I’m sure you miss him horribly. We had no idea you were going through this. You seem sonormal.Honestly, you’re amazing, although I’m sure it helps having such a close family.”

Imogen started to panic. She found personal conversations like this really unsettling. Any moment now they’d be suggesting grief counseling. She needed to shut this down before it went any further.

“I do miss him, but he’s in good hands and I’m sure he’ll soon be home. If you could get those costs, I’d be able to send this through to the client by lunchtime.”

“Working on it now. What’s wrong with him?”

“What’s wrong with who?”

“Midas.” Anya’s eyes were wide with sympathy. “Nothing serious, I hope. I don’t know how you can concentrate on work when he’s ill.”

“They’re not sure what’s wrong,” Imogen said. “They’re running tests.”

This was the problem with working in an open-plan office. People wanted details.

Much of her time was spent out and about with clients at their offices, visiting venues or supervising events, but eventually she had to return to her desk, and that meant being cocooned with her colleagues. And it wasn’t that she didn’t like them, because she did. She liked them a great deal, but there was a fine line between fitting in and being welded together. If someone wanted to talk, then she was always willing to listen, but sometimes the level of information becametoo much(close physical proximity didn’t seem to be the moderating influence it should have been).

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