Page 5 of ReTreat Yourself

‘Was she over the moon?’ asks Lance. ‘Are we all getting promoted?’

‘Not quite,’ I say, wondering how on earth to explain that we are all losing our jobs and it may be Ryan Reynolds’ fault.

‘Look at this!’ gasps Pippa, looking up from her computer. ‘Everyone, check the intranet.’

The team disperses back to their desks as we are treated to a rundown of all the rumours flying around the company about people losing their jobs. If the atmosphere wasn’t bad enough, then the ‘URGENT AND CONFIDENTIAL’ email we all receive a few minutes later seals the deal. HR announce that the company has a new partner, the ICF, which is short for International Corporate Finance, and will be carrying out a transformation. There is a stampede towards me as soon as everyone has read the email. It would seem that because I missed the team lunch and am related to management, they assume I must be in on it. They snarl angrily at me and demand to know what is going on.

‘Look, I’m sure everything will be fine. Let’s not panic. Karen did say something about a shake-up but… it’s probably just a precaution.’

I have suddenly gone to pieces in the face of conflict and pray that what I’m saying is true. No company would replace an entire team with one ill-thought-through, hastily promoted intern.

‘Is this to do with Ava?’ Pippa says angrily, looking about at the team.

Like a fish on a hook, I wonder how to get round the fact that Ava has thrown us all under the bus. No matter what she’s done or how I feel about it, she’s my sister. I can’t do it.

I am saved from telling them the whole truth as Karen emerges from the lift. ‘I’m sure Nell has already told you, so this shouldn’t be a surprise…’ she says to us, and ten minutes later, myself and the entire team are out of work. We are all on garden leave. Hashtag effective immediately.

3

As soon as I’m home, I ring Dan to see what is going on, both on the work front and the cocktail front, but there’s no answer. I send him a message. He pings one straight back to say he’s too busy to talk but he’ll call me later. I tell him it’s urgent and ask him to pick up, but he doesn’t reply. I try to ring Ava, but her phone keeps going straight to voicemail.

How can this be happening? What on earth am I supposed to do now?

My own sister has plotted and schemed to put me out of work, alienated my colleagues, for all I know is in cahoots with my boyfriend, and has made it impossible for me to continue living at home under the same roof as her.

I am cast immediately into a pit of despair. Remembering how my colleagues looked as we all packed up our desks at lightning speed: confused, upset, frightened, angry. Even if they are complete wankers, most of them have families to feed, mortgages and bills to pay. They all refused to look me in the eye or even say goodbye. I literally have no one to turn to.

My phone pings with a message. It’s from Ava.

Nelly-Belly, don’t take it personally, okay? I’ve posted some inspirational quotes so repost them, yeah? #silver_lining #look_on_the_bright_side

Don’t take it frigging personally? I mean, WTF?

My phone pings again. Another message from Ava to remind me that:

#as_one_door_closes_another_door…

I immediately block her number from my phone. I need a plan. I need to get away from this house. I cannot bear the thought of Ava trying to act like she has done no wrong. In fact, I know she will act as though she has done me the mother of all favours and our parents will believe every word of it because she is perfect in their eyes. I glance at the clock. She’ll be walking through the door in a few hours. My heart is thumping out of my chest and there’s a ringing in my ears as blood rushes to my head. I massage away the tingle of sweat forming at the base of my neck. I need to act quickly.

Think, think.

Where can I go?

Who do I know?

I’ve spent the last six years being a workaholic so my very few friends are work colleagues and none of them want to speak to me. I put my head in my hands and search my brain for a quick fix that does not involve travelling to the Far East to find myself in some elephant sanctuary – although elephants seem such majestic creatures and could be a nice distraction. I did do my gap year in an animal rescue centre but it was bloody hard work.

I quickly flick to Milly-May’s Instagram to see how she handles a good crisis. There’s a picture of her looking radiant in what looks like a steaming-hot spring, saying she has just arrived at the Centre for Massage in Iceland, and it’s sorting her right out, hashtag new beginnings, hashtag over it, hashtag spiritual awakening.

Perhaps a nice relaxing retreat is in order? I could stay there for twenty to thirty years until this embarrassing catastrophe has blown over.

A thought occurs. There is a way out of this. A way that I can escape, just for a while, until I come up with a plan. I quickly ring my dad. He is enduring a day out at Ikea.

‘Dad?’ I say urgently.

‘Yes, my love? Is everything all right? I’ll put your mother on.’

‘No, don’t!’