The Switch - Beth O'Leary Page 0,112

mum says, why’s it got to be always about London anyway, I mean God I don’t even fucking like this city, do you like this city, Bee?’

‘There’s no men here.’ This comes out a little strangled, because Bee is currently hanging upside down from my sofa, her feet up the back, her hair splayed on the floor. ‘All the good men are in Leeds. All the good men. Oh my God, do I have a babysitter?’ Bee sits up with a gasp and clutches her head.

‘Jaime’s with your mum,’ I remind her, for the fifth or sixth time since the second bottle of wine was opened.

She flops back down again. ‘Mmkay good.’

I take another swig of wine. I’m on the rug, legs spread-eagled; my brain is whirring through the drunken fog. ‘Shall we just go, Bee? Shall we just go and fucking do it? Why are we even here anyway?’

‘You mean like … philosophicalilly?’ She narrows her eyes and tries again. ‘Philosophocally?’ Then, with great amusement: ‘Philofuckitally?’

‘I mean like, why are we in London anyway? Who says we have to run our business from here?’ I rub my face hard in an attempt to sober up. I have the vague sense that what I’m saying is very important, and also, possibly, the cleverest thing anyone has ever said in the whole wide world. ‘We’ll end up travelling all over anyway. And there’s so much business around Leeds, Hull, Sheffield … I want to be up in Yorkshire where my family is. I want to be with Hank the dog and all the gang, and those hills, God, they make my heart fucking sing, Bee. We can get an office in Daredale. Bee, you’ll love it, Bee. Bee. Bee. Bee.’

I poke her. She’s gone very still.

‘Oh my God,’ Bee says suddenly, pulling her legs down and then swivel-rolling so she ends up in a heap on the floor. ‘Oh my God that’s such a good idea I’m going to be sick.’

*

We hash out the details in slightly more depth over the next two days – there are some issues to overcome, not least the massive life-change for Jaime. But we figure it out, bit by bit, so that when I walk back into Selmount HQ for the first time since that awful panic attack, I’m doing it with a letter of resignation in my hand.

Rebecca takes one look at me once I walk into her office and sighs. ‘Fuck,’ she says. ‘You’re going to resign, aren’t you?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It was always a risk, sending you packing for two months.’ She peers at me. Rebecca needs glasses, but will not acknowledge this sign of human weakness in herself – she prefers to squint. ‘Though you look better for it, I’ve got to say. Nothing I can say to change your mind?’

I smile. ‘’Fraid not.’

‘Where’d you go, then, for your two months of self-actualisation? Bali? Bali seems to be a popular one.’

I try not to laugh. ‘Actually, I went to the Yorkshire Dales. Where my family lives. That’s where I’m going, when I finish up here – I’m going to move in with my grandma, hopefully, and B—’ I stop myself just before I mention Bee’s plans to buy a house in Daredale for her and Jaime. Bee has yet to hand her notice in. In fact, I suspect she is hovering outside the door, ready to come in as soon as I come out.

‘Huh.’ Rebecca narrows her eyes. ‘Smart.’

I blush, and she gives me a knowing look.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Really. Thank you for everything.’

She waves me off. ‘Give me your absolute everything for the next two months, if you really want to thank me,’ she says. ‘Oh – and tell that ex-boyfriend of yours to stop hanging around when he should be client-side.’

‘Ethan?’

‘He’s been mooning around your desk since seven this morning.’

I wince, and she grins.

‘I told him you were on a project in Milton Keynes. ’Spect he’s trying to find the right address for sending a box of chocolates as we speak.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, rather wearily. ‘He’s trying to make amends, I think. Only … it’s something chocolates can’t fix.’

There’s a quiet knock on the door, and Ceci pokes her head around it. I freeze. We look at each other, and I watch the colour creep up from her neck to her cheeks.

‘Great to have you back, Leena,’ she says nervously. ‘So sorry to disturb you. I’ll … I’ll come back.’

I watch her scuttle away. My heart pounds, half loathing, half

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