Down London Road

genuine interest. ‘And you?’
    ‘Yes. I’m good. You know me.’
    ‘And how’s your single mother of one?’
    He laughed drily. ‘Ah, over. We didn’t quite fit.’
    ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’
    ‘And Cameron?’
    My cheeks heated again and I had to force myself to meet his eyes. ‘He’s good.’
    Malcolm frowned. ‘Still taking care of you?’
    ‘He is.’
    ‘Good.’ He blew air out between his lips, glancing around, I think attempting to appear casual. ‘I take it he’s met Cole and your mum?’
    Crap. More guilt washed over me and I found myself choking on the answer. I suddenly felt panicked that if I told him the truth, that Cam knew more about my life than I had ever let Malcolm know, I would hurt this man even more than I already had.
    My silence at his question seemed to provide my answer. His eyes dimmed as he watched me. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
    ‘Malcolm!’ Mr Meikle boomed as he threw his office door open. ‘Joanne didn’t tell me you’d arrived. Come in, come in.’
    It was the first time I’d ever been grateful to my harsh employer. He’d saved me from having to answer to that wounded look on Malcolm’s face.
    The entire time Malcolm was in Meikle’s office I watched the door like a hawk, chewing on my lip, my knee bouncing up and down with my anxiety as I waited for him to reappear. I spent twenty minutes building myself up to his reaction and in the end he walked out the door, threw me a casual smile, and told me he’d talk to me soon. Then he left.
    I wilted against my chair, the tension draining from my body.
    ‘Johanna.’
    I snapped around, surprised not only that Mr Meikle had got my name correct but also that he had uttered it in a tone that was scathing, even for him. He stood in his doorway, his eyes narrowed on me, his expression almost incredulous. ‘Sir?’
    ‘You broke up with Malcolm Hendry?’
    My fingernails bit into the palm of my hands at the inappropriate question while my brain cursed Malcolm to hell. ‘Sir.’
    ‘You silly girl.’ He shook his head, almost as if he felt sorry for me. My heart began to thump in preparation for the insult I knew was coming, my blood already heating with anger. ‘A girl with your limited talents should think more carefully in future before throwing away the opportunity to attach yourself to an affluent man like Malcolm Hendry.’
    His unkind attack slapped me back into the past.
    ‘Get out of my way!’ Dad bellowed, kicking out at me, catching my buttocks with his work boot as I passed. I stumbled, humiliation and pain making me whirl around and glare at him in defiance. His face darkened and he took a menacing step towards me. ‘Dinnae you look at me like that. Dinnae you! You’re nothing. Absolutely worthless.’
    The memory, summoned by Mr Meikle’s condescension, pinned me in my seat. My skin grew hot with renewed humiliation. It’s hard to believe you’re anything but worthless when a parent spends most of your formative years telling you you’re useless. A big nothing. I knew I’d carried that with me. It didn’t take a genius to understand why I had such low self-esteem, or why I had very little belief in myself.
    Or why I probably never would.
    However, I’d grown so used to thinking that way about myself that when others thought it too it didn’t seem
wrong
. Although Joss had spent the last few months attempting to make me see that it was wrong, it had never fully got through to me.
    Until Cameron.
    He wanted me to demand more of myself. He got angry when I didn’t, and furious when other people belittled me. He told me in little ways almost every day that he thought I was special. He chipped away at my insecurities about my intelligence, my personality, and although they were still there, they had been suppressed by his support. Every day they were squashed deeper and deeper into the caverns of my worries.
    Cam said I was
more
.
    How dare anyone who didn’t know me at all try to tell me I was
less
.
    I pushed back from my desk, my chair careening into the metal filing shelves behind me with the force of the action. ‘I quit.’
    Mr Meikle blinked rapidly, the colour on his cheeks deepening to a rosy red. ‘Pardon?’
    Glowering at him, I pulled my bag up off the floor and yanked my jacket off the coat stand near my desk. Standing in the doorway to his reception area, I kept my eyes on him in defiance as I put my jacket on. ‘I said, I quit. Find someone else to hiss at