Page 87 of It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
The journalist had approachedThe Helix’s UK and US representatives for comment but had been ‘unable to reach’ anyone. But a ‘source close to the publication’ had been quoted stating that ‘324 UK staff at its London-based office would soon be receiving emails informing them that they face losing their jobs’. I’d worked with HR long enough to know that ‘face losing their jobs’ was a legally compliant way of saying ‘are going to be made redundant after a perfunctory consultation period’. This was an internal – and external – comms disaster.
I did some quick mental sums based on the regular status of my bank accounts. I figured I had two – maybe three – months of savings to tide me over before my finances would get hairy. I called my co-manager Lauren in the hope she’d be able to provide me with some reassurance, but it went straight to voicemail:
‘You’ve reached Lauren Rollinson atThe Helix. If you’re a reporter seeking a comment, please call my counterpart in the US because I know absolutely fuck-all. If you’re not a reporter, leave a message.’
Oh God. This wasn’t good at all. I left a quick voicemail. She called back within minutes.
‘Mally, hi. Sorry: you’re on my list of people to call but as you can imagine my phone hasn’t stopped ringing. How are you doing?’
I was tempted to tell her about all the shit that had gone down in the space of the last few hours. But she probably had enough on her plate already.
‘I think I’m in shock.’
‘Yeah, me too.’
‘You had no idea?’ I asked.
‘Well, I think lots of us could sense something fishy was going on. But not to this extent. Plus, no one had bothered to bring me in on any of it. If they had, we could’ve managed this shitstorm a whole lot better. But they decided not to trust us to be actual professionals about it all. Some smart alec atThe Helixdecided to leak the story to get a head start on their job hunt. So we’re completely on the back foot and have got absolutely nothing lined up to tell employees – or anyone, for that matter.’
‘Do you reckon we’ll ever get to go back to the office?’ It seemed like the last thing that should’ve been on my mind, but I couldn’t stop thinking about my favourite umbrella lying abandoned under my desk.
‘Yeah, I’m sure we will – even if it’s just to box up our stuff.’
‘Does Maggie know about any of this?’
I could barely bring myself to think about my co-manager Maggie, who’d been a loyal staffer atThe Helixsince the very start of its UK expansion. She was meant to be having a peaceful post-op recovery at home before a quiet Christmas with her first grandchild.
‘Yeah, I spoke to her just now. She’s beside herself. She wanted to call you but I insisted that I’d do it since she’s still on leave.’
‘So what can we do now, comms-wise? Should we be sending out something to staff?’
‘That’s the thing: I’ve been instructed to say nothing. They’ve apparently got some fancy-pants New York PR agency lined up to handle all internal and external comms. But their contract wasn’t meant to start until the new year, when all of this wassupposedto be communicated. Frankly, they can have their Christmas ruined, too, for all I care. I just can’t believe how badly they’ve handled this.’
A selfish thought flew into my mind:At least everyone else will also be having a shit Christmas, now. I was a bad person.
‘So there’s literally nothing we can do?’
‘Nope. I’m so sorry I don’t have much to tell you, Mally. As soon as I’ve got any more information I’ll be in touch. Have you got someone with you?’
I looked around the empty room, my eyes landing on the muted Christmas movie on the telly, which had now resumed after the ad break. A blandly attractive man and Christmas movie legend Lacey Chabert were decorating a Christmas tree. I thought about tree-dwelling Marmalade back in Jo’s living room, my eyes welling up once more.
‘Don’t worry about me, I’m good.’
After hanging up and messaging Maggie, I gave social media a quick search. The consensus seemed to be shock at the timing of the non-announcement-announcement, and how poorlyThe Helix’s hundreds of UK staff were being treated with complete silence from the top. Tons of my colleagues were sharing their own disbelief and anger, tagging the online publication’s US editors and execs to demand answers – all of whom had, so far, said absolutely nothing.
In short, it was a complete mess.
My personal drama with Elle now seemed trivial in comparison to this latest lightning bolt of information. I knew she’d be devastated about her job and would already be hustling for employment elsewhere. In fact, it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d been the one who’d leaked the story. If that was the case, however, she could’ve at least had the decency to tell me, first.
Regardless, the situation had gotten beyond the realms of WhatsApp. I took a deep breath and called her instead. It rang out and went to voicemail.
I sighed and waited for the message tone. ‘Elle, it’s Mally. I just found out aboutThe Helixclosing down. Let’s forget about all the Scarnbrook stuff for now. Please call me back. I need to know you’re OK.’
I sank back down on the sofa and yanked the duvet over me. As I did so, it caught my tumbler of whisky. The heavy-based glass clattered to the floor, somehow not shattering, the amber liquid making a beeline for a small collection of presents under the Christmas tree. I leapt off the sofa and brushed the gifts aside in the nick of time. But something about a couple of them caught my eye. They were the ones from Josh, which Mum and Dad must’ve opted to leave here to open when they got back. The two fabric-wrapped parcels bore those beautiful calligraphic labels… which were tied to the presents with a distinctive mustard twine. I grabbed my phone and zoomed in on the photo I’d taken of Livvie’s grave yesterday. The twine was exactly the same. Had Josh been in Scarnbrook, too?
As I absorbed the puddle of whisky with a few sheets of kitchen roll, my heart pounded in my ears. Why on earth hadn’t he said anything if he had?
I sent him a message.
