Predictably, within a few hundred yards I was winded. I sat on a bench by the river wall and waited a few minutes, my chest heaving and my face burning and damp. In the distance I saw a group of runners, a club, maybe, graceful and fast, scattered along the skyline. They came toward me like a flock of seabirds and passed me, nodding acknowledgment, but still in their own worlds. It was as though I was looking at my earlier self. My earlier life. I wanted to be like them again, carefree and strong.
I stood up, full of renewed determination. I could do this. It might take a while, but I could do it.
* * *
? ? ?
Later that morning I sent off more résumés to the larger companies in the North West and filled in dozens of application forms for jobs that were advertised in the local newspaper. I felt full of energy, as though nothing could bother me now. I’d run for an hour and though I was aching, my mind had cleared. I didn’t care what kind of work I got now; I just needed something to help pay the bills. There were a couple of small local agencies advertising for temporary staff and I sent them an e-mail, attaching my résumé. Temporary work was exactly what I wanted. I wasn’t going to hang around once my house was sold. Within an hour both agencies had responded with an almost identical e-mail:
We’re sorry, we don’t have any work available for someone of your caliber.
I stared at the screen. What? What did they mean? I sent a text to Sarah, telling her about the meeting with Kourtney at Mersey Recruitment and quoting the messages from the other agencies.
How would you take this? I asked.
Sorry, Ruby, she replied. I don’t think that’s a compliment. It sounds more like an insult. Who’s it from?
A couple of agencies. Lansdowne and Hill Street.
She replied within minutes.
They all know each other. You can’t get away with anything. And they swap jobs all the time. Years back when I was temping, I was talking to a woman from one agency; when I went to another agency the next day, she was working there! They all meet up every Friday night at the pub in the square. Cross one and you cross them all.
My stomach dropped. Kourtney must have been talking about me. If I didn’t get any work through the agencies, I’d be stuck. Another message came through. It was Sarah again.
Eleanor Jones used to work with them, too.
Was that how Kourtney had known about Harry and me? I’d suspected everyone at work, and now I knew who it was. Sarah sent another text:
Adam’s got some friends coming round tonight. Fancy meeting up for wine and a chat? I can come to yours if you like or we could go out.
Of course Sarah thought I was still living with Tom. I looked around my new living room. Sarah and her husband, Adam, had been to my old house a few times and we’d been to their house. She’d loved my home and was polite about Tom, but I wasn’t sure she’d really warmed to him. She didn’t know where I was now, was completely unaware I’d left home. The thought of bringing her here horrified me. I sent a quick message:
I fancy going out. McCullough’s at 8?
* * *
? ? ?
McCullough’s was a bar just over a couple of miles away from each of our houses. It was a lovely warm night and I walked there. I arrived first but I’d been eager to leave the flat. That summer, gin was everywhere, and when I saw the cocktails on offer I abandoned my good intentions about alcohol and ordered a strawberry gin. Sarah came running in twenty minutes later, full of apologies, just as the place was getting crowded.
“So sorry! Lovely to see you.” She kissed my cheek and sank into a chair. “Oh, that looks good. I’ll have the same.” When her drink arrived she sipped it and leaned back with a sigh. “God, I