BUTTERFLIES FLY AWAY

  Butterflies Fly Away

  By Carol Mullen

  Text copyright © 2013 Carol Mullen

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design By

  Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs

  To Henry for being there whilst I chased my dreams and butterflies

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER ONE

  Carrie stared at the screen in front of her. Her fingers automatically updating the information needed.

  “Yes, Mr Groves, I’ve added the extra stock to your order. Our despatch team will confirm availability. I have estimated our best dates at present will be week 10, yes that’s week commencing 10th March 2014”

  Pleasantries were exchanged and the call ended. She clicked the mouse and closed the order. Clicked the mouse again and back to the grey screen of the company logo.

  But still she stared ahead. Her eyes were drawn the photograph in the silver frame – to the happy smiling couple who were tipping their glasses in celebration. It was a New Year celebration party with fireworks exploding in spectacular fashion in the background. For them it was the perfect party with so much promise for the year ahead. Then life stopped and she couldn’t stop the momentum that had started to build, picking up speed twisting and pulling at her. In her head the scenes after the photo replayed in her mind. Laughing with friends and family as they made resolutions, pacts and promises. 2013 was going to be the best year ever! It had a lot to live up to but the previous eighteen months had been magical for her.

  “Carrie, Carrie, Have you heard a word I’ve said!” her head snapped up away from the photograph and away from the memories.

  “Sorry, No Fiona what did you say?”

  “The account manager wants to see you. He needs that report NOW.” She heard the tsk in the final word as it was delivered. The impatience that Fiona was trying to contain – badly trying to contain. Carrie could feel the mixture of frustration and anger that was emanating from her line manager.

  “Carrie we discussed this. You did say you could handle it, that it was under control. If you’re not up to it?” The question was left hanging.

  “It’s here somewhere, I know I updated it in time for the sales manager meeting” she began to shuffle paper along her once immaculate desk trying in vain to find the report. She picked up the empty paper coffee cup and put it in the recycle bin. Shuffled the papers again. Once she would have accessed the report at her finger tips before the sentence was finished. She had taken pride in her job and the respect that was given to her. Respect she had earned, now she had pity.

  Her stomach was cramping anxiously as she knew she was heading for another tally mark in her ‘mistake column’. It was just what she needed on a Monday morning for a great start to the week.

  “Ah, Ah, I will print it again Fiona just give me a couple of minutes” she stammered.

  “No need I’ve got extra copies. We will be using the power point presentation but I wanted to pass out a paper copy at the end” again delivered with a sigh. “Look, sort yourself and your desk out because you are a MESS! Are you trying to sabotage your career at AGM? Because if you are trying to sabotage it you are doing a damn fine job”

  The sound of Fiona’s heels stomping – well more of a muffled thud on the carpeted floor – accompanied by the bang of the office door signalled that she had left.

  Tumbleweed moment.

  It was a small office. Cosy when described with affection alternating with claustrophobic when arguments over air conditioning vs. heaters arose. These were debates that could be raged for weeks and seasons at a time. They would rather switch the air con on then switch it off. Open a window then close it later. A process to be repeated many, many times. Offices are very territorial places as she soon found when she was the newbie and made the mistake of taking a desk that appeared to be ‘empty’. She was quickly given short shrift that it was Jill on maternity’s desk. Sacrilege to even consider putting her bottom on ‘Jill’s chair. Office etiquette it was not. During university holidays she had spent time working in hotels housekeeping or waitressing gaining experience as well as lining her pocket. There was a different camaraderie working in hospitality. She wasn’t prepared for the bitchiness of office life. But she couldn’t find a job with her degree in tourism and hospitality management that didn’t involve her moving away from home and she wasn’t quite ready to make that break yet. Bills needed to be paid so she had taken a different route.

  She felt the eyes of her colleagues watching her getting yet another bawling out. Quickly gulping air she picked up her handbag and raced to the bathroom.

  In the sanctuary of the cloakroom she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Where was that feisty smiling girl from the picture? Where did she go? Her skin was pasty. No golden glow now; artificial induced via bottles of fake bake to glimmer on her skin or sun kissed from holidays in the Mediterranean sun. Her dull brown hair swept back in a ponytail. No longer glossy from regular hair salon treatments. The choppy fringe had grown out and she could secure the bangs away. Everything was minimum effort. A bare sweep of mascara and a lip gloss her only make up. It was like looking at a stranger.

  Her skin began to feel clammy and she knew that a full blown anxiety attack was on its way. Her heart was beginning to race as if it would burst from her chest as the palpitations began. Sometimes it was the littlest of things that triggered it. It didn’t have to be a major incident but this morning it began when she had placed Mr Groves order her eyes were drawn not to the dates; 10th March but the 14th March which was Rob’s anniversary. Her GP had prescribed tablets to ease her symptoms and she fumbled in her handbag for the familiar packet. After tipping her bag onto the countertop she rummaged once again with no success. Keys, make up, hand cream, a diary from 2013 that she couldn’t part with, an empty bottle of perfume of her signature scent, painkillers, tampax, mobile and a multitude of more essential ‘things’ that she needed to get through the day but no medication.

  Then she remembered the packet was on her desk ironically she was going to take one before the latest incident or FU (Fuck Up) as she mentally referred to them. That was before Fiona arrived at her desk and threw her into disarray. Taking deep breaths she swept the contents back into her roomy tote bag, uncaring of any organisation attempt. She locked the door of the toilet cubicle and slid down onto the floor. She hugged her knees and rocked. “It’s okay, it’s okay” she repeated like a mantra. She needed to regain control of herself enough to face the office and get the medication she required. With shaky legs she coached herself back up, opened the cubicle door and ran the cold water over her wrists. No one was waiting and she wasn’t surprised by the absence.


  “You can do it, Get your shit together Carrie!”

  More deep breaths and opened the office door. A quick glance around and the cluster of desks were empty. No surprizes awaiting her it must be the tea run. The bottle of mineral water on her desk was empty containing not even a drop to ease swallowing the tablet. Her mouth so dry she wouldn’t be able to attempt it without water.

  They were her friends, her colleagues and confidants but now they were strangers to her. No one was going to knock on the door and check if she was okay or offer a glass of water or words of comfort as to why she rushed out of the office. She wasn’t part of their clique anymore. She didn’t go for their girlie lunches and nights out. The dinner party invites dried up as she wouldn’t have a partner to accompany her and they didn’t want to throw out their even spaced seats. She had joined the widow club and that was one club they didn’t require a membership for or want to join the waiting list. Their husbands and partners didn’t know what to say and would offer to fix her guttering or cut the grass. Offers that were viewed with suspicion by their partners. She wasn’t on the lookout for a replacement or to steal anyone’s husband who just happened to cut the grass.

  Oh they made the offer but the intention wasn’t there and it wasn’t paranoia making her decline. Things were awkward and they just didn’t know what to say to her. Secretly she felt they were glad when she refused; that they had made the offer to appease their own conscience. They participated in the build-up to the funeral and all the tasks that were associated with it but once it was over they had already compartmentalised Rob away in the part of the brains that didn’t understand why she was not ‘over it’. The first few weeks after Rob died her friends and family expected her to be ready to move on as their lives had done. But that wasn’t want she wanted. She wanted to talk about him and say how much she missed him but that was when the conversation would end.

  She felt alone in her work place, alienated from the conversations as she wasn’t up to date on the latest gossip or even the last episode of the soaps. They spoke of nights out that she couldn’t remember being invited to, of compromising situations between colleagues married or otherwise and the ensuing fallout.

  Bugger she would have to face them in the communal office kitchen. Easy does it, she continued her mental coaching. A few more steps get the water, then back to the sanctuary of her desk to take her tablet. The kitchen was L shaped and it was a hubbub for chatter discrete or otherwise. The place where office gossip battles were fought and won. Of snatched conversations to full blown character assassinations – such is office life.

  Tina and Laura were fixing cups boiling the kettle and with practised ease adding sugar, sweetener, milk. To an outsider it would look a picture of efficiency. They were out in full force. She held back as an inner voice was telling her to stop, almost at the doorway but still not visible to the gaggle of women in the kitchen.

  “She doesn’t need to be here!” Tina began. “Did you hear Fi? She’s a mess!”

  “Yeah, all that money and can’t even get her roots done!” They started to cackle laughing at each other’s ad libs. The kettle continued to boil, just as Carrie could feel her own temper coming to the boil.

  “My Lisa loved working here. Oh she knew it wasn’t a permanent thing but she did a better job than her! Times are hard and she is taking a good job out of someone else’s hands. She doesn’t need to work. I told Fi... you mark my words... I told her... That one won’t do a decent days work now. We will all have to carry her.” Tina continued in her justification for her daughters ‘temporary’ employment. “My Lisa fitted right in here.” She finished her tirade arms crossed over.

  “Her husband pops his clogs. I bet he left her thousands. Her mortgage paid off, drives that fancy Range Rover car and she still comes into work!”

  “Would not be me! I’d think I’d won the lottery!”

  “Oh come on Tina, it’s not her fault her husband died on her” Laura interjected.

  “Well, it’s never too late; she will probably find someone else, flash her tits and get married again”

  Carrie heard the affronts and her heart began to race with anger replacing the anxiety that she was attempting to relieve.

  Was that what they really thought of her? Her so called friends.

  Did they think her life consisted of counting the money in her bank account? Living the good life?

  She took a step closer to the kitchen door but they were still oblivious to her presence and continued.

  “Oh and another thing that report is on my desk. The one Fi was looking for. I heard her ask but thought sod it let her stew!” Tina confessed with another bellowing laugh. “It’s on my desk ready to go in the shredder later. Makes up for all the times she’s been lording it around me. Office supervisor, she only got that promotion because her husband was management plus she probably shook her tits at them to give it to her. Oh and you all know I let her have the job ‘cos I didn’t want it”

  The spoon tinkled in the mug as Tina spun it round and round adding the boiling water making her milky tea.

  “Is that right Tina?” I interrupted. The spoon clunked in the mug as it was dropped from a great height.

  “Anything else you want to add? I thought better of you. I thought you were my friend. Come to think of it I thought all of you were my friends but hold on a second. Let me check my back for the knives you’ve all been sharpening! I thought I felt a twinge between my shoulder blades there!”

  “Carrie ... I eh ... I mean it’s not like you think!” Debbie ever the peacemaker tried to butt in.

  “What a bunch of two-faced lying spiteful bitches!” Carrie began her rant and nothing was going to halt her. “Why stop now? Don’t you have anything else to say about me? Sounds like you are on a roll. My work, appearance, dead husband, bank account! The list goes on, doesn’t it? What else can you take a pop at?”

  “Carrie! What’s going on here?” Fiona had now joined the melee. Drawn out of her office by the sound of the raised voices.

  “Well Tina? Is it confession time? Why don’t you check her desk for the report? The missing one that was career ending for me earlier. Or follow her to the shredder before she disposes of the evidence?”

  “I’m sure it’s been a simple mistake Carrie, I think you are possibly getting upset over nothing” Fiona tried to be the pacifier now.

  “I don’t think so ... I’ve just listened to a character assassination my by ‘so-called colleagues’ Eh comparing being a widow to winning the lottery. Is that what you all think? Is it? That I should be so bloody lucky that my bank balance has a few more pounds? Mortgage Free? I LOVED my husband. I miss him every day. You know NOTHING... NOTHING... I’d give everything I own to see my husband one more time but I guess you lot wouldn’t understand anything like that. You would only see the pound signs.” she shouted, uncaring that their racket was drawing the attention of everyone else in the office.

  “Carrie, look lets go find a meeting room ... it’s time to calm down ... get you some water and we can talk things through” Fiona tried to put her hand on her elbow but she shrugged it away.

  “Calm down, me calm down! I think we are past that. I’m out of here. I am finished with being treated like a leper because my husband died. It’s not catching you know!”

  Her heart was racing again but for the first time in months she felt alive and a little bit of the ‘old’ Carrie started to emerge from her cocoon of the last year.

  This time it was her footsteps that stomped across the office carpet but her stride was determined and she made it there in a few steps.

  She picked up the cardboard box that she had assembled earlier that morning in her attempt to tidy her desk – even had the paper cut to prove it and began to pack up her personal items. The top drawer was pulled out and emptied in full. Oops the stapler fell into the box – oh well if they wanted it back they could sue her for it! She had faithfully added her initials in tippex 4 years ago when she joined the
company CR to claim it for her own. When she married Rob she added the initial D – it was hers. The property of Carrie Reynolds-Davies. Not to be confused with any another office stapler. Pens with fuzzy tops – one that Rob had bought her after a disastrous hair do that was more hair don’t than do. The little stuffed tiger that he bought as a reminder of a calamitous attempt at home tanning. Her brass name plate – Carrie Reynolds-Davies – Office Supervisor.

  A sob began to rise in her throat. All at once the memories of so many good times and mementoes began to assault her numb brain. And finally, that silver picture frame, their last New Year.

  Fumbling through her bag she couldn’t find the car keys, of bugger, bugger, bugger... get me out of here! Panic started to rise again as the bravado of the exchange of words was wearing off.

  “Look Carrie, there’s no need to be hasty, let’s talk about this. I think Human Resources would like to speak to you and we can discuss this further”

  “Fiona with the best of intentions why don’t you just shove your job!” She took the box of paper tissues from the top of her jumble of possessions. “Oh and Tina tell Lisa to blow her nose it’s a disgusting habit to leave her snot on any available surface. YUK! I though with your high standards YOU would have brought her up better than that. This should help” She flung the box of tissues in Tina’s direction. “Oh and another thing, make sure Mr Groves gets his order out in time. I wouldn’t want there to be any more mistakes, not on my watch anyway. I’m not a tittle tattle but I think you will find that last error had nothing to do with me. Check the order again. It was processed when I was on leave. Isn’t that right Tina?”

  With a final stomp across the carpet and a gratifying slam of the door for good measure; she was gone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  They had lived in a lovely cul-de-sac where neighbours really did know each other, looked out for one and other. They watched out for new faces that were suspicious or otherwise. Cut the grass when a neighbour was poorly or took in parcels if no one was home. Street BBQ’s on summer days and competitions at Christmas for the best light show was a must. It was a desirable estate to live in but not just for the catchment to the best schools in the area, people wanted to live there.