My throat is so tight I can barely speak. “What plan?”
“He told them he’d been harassing you. That you’d turned him down a number of times but he couldn’t help himself. He said he knew it had been an act of gross misconduct, and he was willing to pay the consequences.”
Tears sting my eyes. “He sacrificed himself for me?”
“He said it was the only way. As his friend I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen.” His cheeks flush as he speaks. “He wouldn’t let me go until I agreed to help him.”
I pick at the napkin in front of me, fibres falling to the floor like feathers from a bird. “What did they do to him?” I ask. “Has he lost his job?”
Jonathan shakes his head. “He came close, and to be honest by that point I don’t think he cared. But in the end they came to an agreement.” He shifts again, clearing his throat. “He had to transfer to the Edinburgh office right away, and agree not to contact you again.”
“What?” I try to catch my breath, but it isn’t there. “What do you mean he can’t contact me? I can still see him, can’t I?”
“No, they made that very clear. Any contact between the two of you and he’ll be dismissed. Clearly they think that you never want to hear from him again after what’s happened, and we need to keep it that way.”
A sob escapes my lips. “But I love him. They can’t keep us apart, they can’t.” I drop the shredded napkin. “It’s just a stupid job, it doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” Jonathan says sharply. “Callum’s job was the only thing that kept him going after Jane died. I know he cares about you, Amy, but this isn’t some bloody romance novel, it’s real life. There’s no way he wants to be responsible for messing up your career, not to mention losing your degree. This is the only way.”
“It can’t be…” My voice trails off as I try to think of another solution. Of course I want my degree, but the need to see Callum is so much stronger than the need to succeed. For the first time I realise that I’d sacrifice it all to be with him.
Exactly when he’s surrendering everything to be without me.
“You need to listen to me.” Jonathan hunches forward, his voice urgent. “If you try to contact him, they’ll find out, and it will be obvious he lied to protect you. You’ll both end up losing your jobs and that can’t happen.”
“But I love him.” The dam bursts as tears start to stream down my face. “And he loves me, he told me. This can’t happen.”
Even as I protest, I realise the truth. It is happening.
29
“Can I come in?”
The voice emanates from the other side of my closed door. Two days later and I’m still wallowing, shut up in my room where my only companions are a glass of water and the ballads streaming out of my stereo speakers. I’m curled up in a ball on top of my bedcovers, eyes red, nose streaming.
“Go away.” My words are muffled by my pillow. The poor thing has been pummelled and cried on until it resembles a wet rag.
My voice is obviously too stifled, because the handle on the door turns, and the person I least expect to see pops his head around, eyes searching the room until he finds me.
“Amethyst?”
“It’s Amy.” I sit up and grab the last tissue from the cardboard box next to my bed. “And I want to be alone.”
Digger walks in anyway, wringing his clasped hands as if he were drying washing. “I know, I just wanted to…” He swallows nervously, his eyes still darting around. “God, this room takes me back.”
Since I left the meeting at Richards and Morgan—and Diana suggested I take the rest of the week off—a succession of friends and family have paraded through my bedroom as they attempt to find a way to cheer me up.
I get the feeling this is their last try. If I don’t react to Digger then nothing will work.
“Can I sit down?” He gestures at the brown easy chair in the corner of my room. The same one my mum used to nurse all three of her children in, it has enough sentimental value for her to never throw it away. Right now it’s covered in a pile of clothes, and I watch as Digger lifts them off. I can’t even muster the energy to be embarrassed.
Seated, he looks as uneasy as he did when standing. Leaning his elbows on his long legs, he rests his chin on his hands, and stares at me with familiar blue eyes.
“Your mum says you’ve had a bit of trouble at work.”
Hearing the mention of my job is enough to send a shiver down my spine.
“I’m fine.” The monotone in my voice tells a different story, but I’m hoping that it might send Digger running out of the door. I don’t want to talk to anybody.