Fancy him catching me rolling around screaming like a fucking crazy person. And me telling him topretendto be a client while Ipretendto be a qualified coach. I’m pretty certain there’ll be a rule against that.
No wonder he agreed to it so easily. No wonder he’s so nosy! It’s his fucking job! Fucking hell, I’ll get sacked, and I’ll be unemployed again and desperate. I stamp back into my office. Within seconds, I have located my other shoe dangling from the lightshade as I remember his repeated warnings about webs of lies.
Cold realisation dawns.
I’ve successfully handed him my career on a plate. I stand the lamp back on the coffee table. I must have knocked it over while I was rolling about.
Nidi will be so disappointed that I’ve let her down. She’ll possibly get struck off in the process too, causing unknown amounts of stress to her unborn child, and Ava is arriving just in time to enjoy the whole shit show. I can just picture my sister laughing when she hears the news. I need to stop him coming back so that he can’t expose me as the complete lying fraud that I am.
Feckerty, feck, feck, feck!
‘Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen,’ I say from the doorway. ‘Listen to me very, very carefully. Do not. I repeat. Do not…’ I give her a chance to grasp the basics. ‘DO NOT let that man book another appointment. Do you understand?’
Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen looks at me blankly. ‘Si.’
Once back in my office, I let out a muffled cry, and for the billionth time, wish I was married to Ryan Reynolds. He’d know what to do. I’m sure I’d be a much happier person if I were Mrs Reynolds.
A huge searing headache pain rips me away from the fantasy, back to the huge hot mess I’m in. I race to the cooler to crack open the emergency bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. I pour a large glass and take a huge swig with one hand while I attempt to Google how Ryan handles a crisis.
On second thought, I should search for international job websites and flights out of here. I’m wondering if France still has those wine lakes, you hear about. I could move there and start again. Or I could escape to a secluded castle far away in Eastern Europe. Another few swigs and I’m wondering if the Greeks might be a friendlier race. And as I drain the last of the glass, I settle on the remote region of northern Peru. I’ll go live with the randy mountain goats.
Chapter 17
‘HelloNell,haveyougot two minutes for a quick word?’ Nidi asks politely, popping her head through the door a while later.
‘Of course, I have,’ I say, immediately clicking the job websites closed and swiftly sliding my empty wine glass into the desk drawer. I try to put aside my feeling of foreboding when I see Nidi making her way across to the window to take a seat on the good sofa. She pats the space next to her to indicate that I should go over.
Now I am significantly concerned. Nidi is a very experienced life coach. Which is why I can tell that she is about to life coach me right now. Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen must have told her about some of my truths; the existence of a sister and my not quite being qualified, my penchant for daytime drinking and the involvement of the ICF which might jeopardise her business. I really must put a stop to all of this lying.
‘Nell, hun, don’t look so worried,’ she soothes. I pretend to laugh it off.
I’m absolutely shitting myself.
‘Have you been drinking?’ Nidi asks me, slightly alarmed.
‘No, of course not,’ I lie, reaching for a mint. It’s barely 1pm. ‘Oh, but I did spill some wine earlier, tidying up. Must be that, I think.’
It’s true. I spilled at least 3 units straight down my throat.
‘How are you?’ she asks innocently, cutting across me. That is such a loaded question. Maybe she can sense I’m something approaching a complete disaster deep down. Which, apparently, for a Life Coach, is fairly embarrassing no matter how hard I’ve been working to hide it from the world.
I snap back to attention. ‘Nidi,’ I say, politely cutting to the chase. I tilt my head and reciprocate the eyebrow raise. I might as well brazen it out. ‘What’s this about? Hmm?’
I see her adjust the way she is sitting from a relaxed slouch to an upright position rubbing her hand gently over her neat bump. She turns to give me a warm smile. It’s like the one that reeled me in the very first time we met. Here it comes.
‘Well,’ she says in her soothing way and reaches for my hands to cup them in hers. I feel my heartbeat quicken as I look into her soulful, all-seeing eyes.
She knows. She knows I’m a deceitful, horrible person.
In my defence, I am the product of very limp parenting. Of course I’m going to struggle.
‘Devin’s grandma died last night,’ she says, taking a beat to let this land.
Oh. What a relief.
‘Thank fuck for that.’ I say, exhaling too loudly.
Nidi’s eyebrows shoot up.
