Jennifer Joyce - The Accidental Life Swap

‘So, we’re perfectly clear?’ The eyebrows are reaching for Vanessa’s hairline again. I feel I have no choice but to nod. ‘Fabulous. I’ll reimburse you for your petrol and other expenditures, obviously, but we’ll have to sort that out later as I’m extremely late for my meeting now.’ She gives a pointed look at the meeting room door, but I can’t let her go just yet.

‘I don’t drive, and I have no idea where this house is.’

Vanessa heaves an enormous sigh at the inconvenience of these minor details. ‘Then you’ll have to catch the train or something. You’re more than welcome to stay at the house for the duration, if it’s easier than travelling back and forth. It’s completely weatherproof, though unfurnished, I’m afraid. There’s always the guesthouse, I suppose.’ She shrugs and takes a step closer to the meeting room. ‘My set of keys are in my handbag, and you’ll find the address of the house in my diary from when I went for a viewing, around the middle of January. It’s in Little Heaton.’ She reaches for the meeting room door, but I haven’t quite managed to iron out all the details.

‘What about my job here?’ I point towards my desk, which is portioned off outside Vanessa’s office. ‘How will you manage without me?’

Vanessa gives me an indulgent smile. ‘I’m sure we’ll cope, sweetheart. And Emma can step in and help out if needed.’

Emma’s head pops up from the reception desk as she hears her name and Vanessa briefly fills her in.

‘Of course I’ll help out.’ Emma smiles at Vanessa, but the corners of her mouth droop as a frown takes over. ‘Um, what’s going on with your hair, Vanessa? It’s a bit …’ She wafts a hand above her head while Vanessa’s eyes widen. My stomach lurches as Vanessa reaches up and discovers the unruly strands. I should have told her earlier, as soon as I stepped into her office. Why couldn’t I be more like Emma? There’s no way she would have allowed Vanessa to attend a meeting looking a hot mess.

There’s a strangled cry as Vanessa scurries away from the meeting room, only pausing to glare at me before she pushes her way into the ladies’. She’s going to be super late for that meeting now.

‘Um, Rebecca?’ Emma peels a pink post-it note from the pad in front of her and waggles it in my direction. ‘Your sister called. Again.’ She flashes me an apologetic smile, knowing I’ve been avoiding Kate for the past few weeks. When I’d ignored her calls enough times, she’d changed tactic and started to badger me at work.

‘I haven’t got time for that.’ I wave away the slip of pink paper and start to back away towards Vanessa’s office. ‘I’ve got a train to catch.’

*

The sun is out now, shining bright in the almost cloudless sky, but it is freezing as I stand on the platform at Piccadilly train station, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my coat. I’m still wearing the ridiculous peep-toe boots and I can feel every breath of the wind that is whistling along the platform, my toes turning blue with the chill. I should have changed into more suitable footwear whilst I was at the flat, but I barely had time to shove a few essentials into the holdall before I had to jump into the taxi beeping with irritation outside. I’ve packed enough to last me until the weekend, when I’ll make the journey back home, because Vanessa can’t seriously expect me to uproot my life for a whole month – however tempting the thought had been when I’d stepped into the flat and caught the lingering whiff of my flatmate. Having a little break from Lee is the only silver lining of this whole debacle. I toyed with the idea of leaving my absence to his imagination – had I been kidnapped? Run over and left for dead on the side of the road? – but I was afraid he’d have rented out my room by the time I returned if I didn’t let him know I’d be back soon, so I’ve left him a note on the fridge.

Tugging my hands from my pockets, I rub them together to try to create a bit of warmth as I peer down the tracks, hoping to glimpse the train that was due eight minutes ago. I’d rushed to make it to the station but I needn’t have been so speedy as there’s no sign of the train. I’m half-tempted to nip to the kiosk at the top of the steps to grab a cup of coffee to warm me up but I know without a doubt that the train will have pulled up and left again by the time I’ve clattered back down the steps, probably spilling hot liquid down myself in my haste. So I’m forced to stand, teeth chattering, while I wait for a train I don’t even want to catch.

This is absurd. Why am I putting up with this change in job role? I should have been firm. Said no, I will absolutely not take on the task of project managing a house renovation in the middle of nowhere, and if you even think of firing me over the matter, I will drag you to court for unfair dismissal. But I didn’t, because I’m as firm as unset jelly, and now I’m about to board the train that is rumbling down the tracks towards me at last.

I feel a bit sick as I bend down to grab the holdall at my feet. This is it. I’m really doing this. I’m actually taking a break from my role as Vanessa’s PA, moving away from the office and my dream profession, to oversee the transformation of a house I have zero interest in. How am I supposed to earn a promotion now I’ve been shoved out of the way? I can’t impress Vanessa with my ideas from Little Heaton. This is career suicide!

Unless … Hooking the holdall onto my arm, I join the melee of people waiting to board, scanning the crowd for the end of a queue to join. Or any hint of a queue in the chaos, at least. There isn’t one and I find myself jostled out of the way as a D-bag with a briefcase barges past with his elbows out. I apologise (what the hell?) before edging my way back into the pack, earning myself a glare from a woman with a pushchair, who runs over my exposed toes before I can leap out of the way. I’m silently seething by the time I limp onto the train, shuffling along the carriage in search of an empty seat with my holdall clutched to my chest. This day sucks . I thought Lee using my toothpaste without permission had been bad enough, but the morning has been on a steady decline since I stepped into Vanessa’s office and spotted her dishevelled hairdo. So much for those good vibes I’d fooled myself into feeling on the way to work.

I make my way into the next carriage and the feeling of dread lifts ever so slightly when I spot a free seat at the end. Not only is the seat free of either body or bag, it is a window seat and it is facing forward . The positive me from this morning would have taken this as a Very Good Sign, but all the buoyancy has been sucked out of me by now so I simply slot my holdall into the luggage rack above my head and sink gratefully into the seat. The voice over the tannoy system announces the opening of the onboard kiosk, but although I’m in desperate need of a coffee for both the caffeine injection and the warmth, I’m fearful that my seat will have been appropriated by the time I get back. No, it’s safer to remain where I am, as settled as I can be whizzing past fields of sheep at a hundred miles an hour. Besides, there’s something more urgent than my need for coffee prodding at me. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s bugging me, a thought that I can’t quite grasp hold of.

My phone beeps in my pocket and I see a message from Emma when I pull it out.

Good luck with your ‘new job’ – show Vanessa what you’re made of! xxx

And that’s when it hits me. The thought that’s been niggling at me since I picked up my holdall on the platform. I need to use this as an opportunity to really impress Vanessa, to show her that I have all the skills required of a good events planner: exceptional organisation, the ability to multitask and problem-solve while working under pressure, and meeting tight deadlines while retaining a high level of attention to detail. I’m going to be the best, most efficient project manager and keep the refurbishment on track. I’m going to prove to Vanessa that I have what it takes, that I would be an asset to her team if she would only give me the opportunity to shine. I’m going to earn myself that promotion, get a foot back on the career ladder and find myself a decent flat-share so I can finally live the life I dreamed I would when I left home and moved to Manchester. This is the start of a brand new life and a brand new me.