“And you’re aware that fraternisation is strictly forbidden?”
“Fraternisation?” I question.
“Office affairs.” There’s a sigh in her voice. “You’re aware that office affairs are forbidden. You signed the paper after all.”
“I said I did,” I snap, then immediately want to change my tone. Any remaining bravado flows out with my words, leaving behind a mixture of shock and fear.
“Then I’m sorry to say you’ve been accused of contravening that policy.”
This time she passes me a photograph. Though it’s grainy—printed in black and white—there’s no doubt that the two people in the picture are Callum and me, locked in an embrace next to the second-floor bathroom door.
“Is that you?” she asks.
For one moment I consider denying it. Telling her it must be someone else—another twenty-something with dark hair and a blunt fringe.
“I don’t know.” I can’t even come out with a sensible retort. My mind is so full of conflicting thoughts that it can’t process properly.
“I have a statement from another employee which confirms that the two people in this photograph are you and Mr Callum Ferguson. Your boss.”
“He’s not my boss,” I say weakly. “Not any more.”
Diana leans her head to the side, still staring at me. “This isn’t a time to play semantics, Miss Cartwright. Do you understand how serious this is? You’ve been accused of contravening a Company policy. The consequences could be dismissal, which not only means you’ll lose your job, but also your chance of getting your degree. Of course we will have to inform your university of the accusations, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re punished by them, too.”
The tone of her voice is calm, but there’s something else in it. An edge of relish, or maybe even self-importance. She’s enjoying this. She actually wants to see me in trouble; maybe it’s a big improvement to her normally-mundane Tuesdays.
I’m panicking, even while I’m trying to keep my exterior as calm as possible. I’ve worked hard for this degree, and the thought of it being snatched away makes me want to throw something at the wall. Tears sting beneath my eyelids, and I reach up, wiping them away, because I really don’t want her to know how truly frightened I am.
“Aren’t I supposed to have somebody with me in a meeting like this?” I ask. I’m not sure it’s true or if I’m getting mixed up with those cop shows again. Maybe I should call a lawyer or something. But I don’t have the money to pay for one, and Richards and Morgan could pay for dozens without blinking an eyelid. It’s David against Goliath and I don’t have a slingshot.
“This is simply part of the investigation,” Diana says, snatching the Code of Conduct out of my hand. “I’m trying to find out all the details before I hand it over to the hearing.”
I grip the arms of my chair tightly. My stomach feels as though I’ve been sitting on a rollercoaster. Tight and sickly.
“And if I say nothing?”
“This isn’t a court, Amethyst. The more information we have, the better your chances are. If you show regret, and if you tell me everything you know, then maybe there’s an opportunity to save your job.” Her voice drops, as if she’s suddenly become a conspirator, rather than an accuser. “I’m sure Mr Ferguson is telling his side of the story.”
A memory flashes into my head. This morning when I lay in Callum’s bed, watching him shaving through the crack in the bathroom door. He’d caught my stare and stopped, half his jaw still covered in foam, and given me a deliciously wicked smile. Then his eyes had softened and I’d felt a real and deep bond between us.
Did I imagine it? He wouldn’t throw me to the wolves in an effort to keep his own job, would he? Was I being stupidly naive, believing that love would trump everything, and nothing else mattered except how we felt about each other?
Your degree matters, the voice in my head tells me. Your degree, your job and your future. Are you really going to give those up for a man? You’re just like your mother, throwing everything away for a roll in the hay.
I start to heave, quickly covering my mouth with my sweaty palm. Diana stands up, her eyes wide, and pushes me towards the door. Somehow I make it into the bathroom, falling to my knees as I vomit up the contents of my stomach, spasms wracking my stomach.
When the sickness subsides, I splash my face with some water at the basin, though it does nothing to calm the redness of my eyes. I try to wipe away the mascara that has smudged beneath them, but all I manage to do is make myself look more haunted.
Diana is waiting for me outside the bathroom, as if I’m a naughty schoolchild needing to be escorted everywhere. She even takes my wrist, pulling me along, but I feel too weak to protest.
Outside her office a shadow falls over us. I look up, a flash of hope shooting through me that somehow Callum’s come to save the day. When I realise it’s Jonathan, my shoulders drop, and I have to close my eyes to prevent the tears from starting again.
“What’s going on?” Jonathan asks. His lips are thin and tight.
“Nothing for you to be concerned about,” Diana replies, a little too breezily, “Just something I need to discuss with Amy.”
I notice that she uses my preferred name for the first time.
“I am concerned,” Jonathan says. “I’m Amy’s boss and she’s supposed to be working on my project. There’s a critical meeting this afternoon and I need her input.” When he glances at me, his eyes widen. “Are you okay, you don’t look very well?”