The Bosss Secret
Thursday, 13th November
Ive always known there was something up with our dear boss, but today it simply hit me hes definitely seeing someone. Or, at least, hes just gone through a row with someone close. Why else would he be so snappy with us lately, setting us impossible tasks and finding fault with every little thing? I whispered this to Emma, who was sitting beside me during the meeting, but she just gave me a sharp look and turned away pointedly. Not that it stopped me.
Come on, arent you the least bit curious? I nearly hissed, a bit louder than I wouldve liked. What if hes having troubles at home and thats why hes always barking at us? Something could be going on, and we wouldnt even know
Of course, that bit of whispering didnt go unnoticed. Our boss, Mr. Thomas Wilkinson, who was in the middle of the meeting, abruptly stopped mid-sentence and fixed me with a cold, steely stare.
Sophie, are you bored? he said, distinctly enunciating each word. Or do you find the current topic less important? Perhaps youd like to take the floor?
My heart jumped to my throat. I blinked several times, frantically trying to collect my thoughts. Honestly, how does he always manage to notice everything?
Sorry, Mr. Wilkinson, I was just sharing uh some ideas with Emma, I mumbled, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Nothing serious, just thinking aloud.
He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, the ghost of a smirk flickering across his face. He clearly knew it had nothing to do with work, but he wanted to make his point.
Do enlighten us, then. Whats the issue? Were all ears, he said, an unmistakable note of irony in his voice.
A shiver ran down my spine. I tried to smile, wracking my brain for some plausible reply.
Err, I think Ill keep them to myself for now. They need a fair bit of working out before I waste everyones time with them, I replied, fighting to keep my voice level.
He smirked a little more openly. Well, then, I expect your fully developed ideas by the end of the week. I trust theyll bring value to the company. Now, shall we get back to business?
After that, I went entirely silent. I sat there feeling my cheeks burn, my gaze occasionally stealing glances at Mr. Wilkinson in growing annoyance. Not only had I been caught gossiping, now Id been lumped with even more work.
Emma, sitting a couple of chairs away, was doing her best not to break out into laughter. I could tell she was quite amused by the whole thing. My wounded stares towards Mr. Wilkinson did probably look rather comical. She soon buried herself in her notes again, but every so often her eyes flicked up, as if noting how hard I was working to keep my composure after such an embarrassing slip-up.
When the meeting finally came to an end, I barely waited for Mr. Wilkinsons conclusion before clattering back to our office with Emma trailing behind, her mouth pulled up in a smile she wasnt even trying to hide.
Plopping down at my desk, I slammed my laptop shut and huffed. Would it have killed you to help me out back there? I muttered, folding my arms. Now I have to come up with something by the end of the week! Thats only three days!
Emma just chuckled as she poured tea into a mug. Ive told you countless timesmeetings are for paying attention, not for daydreaming or gossip. After a moments thought, she rummaged through her drawer and set a chocolate bar beside my mug. Calm down, have a bit of tea and chocolate, and get cracking.
Looking at the small comfort of tea and chocolate, my irritation lessened fractionally, but I put on my best grumpy face and muttered, Work can wait! There are far more intriguing topics of conversationlike our new boss!
Emma shook her head, eyes never leaving her screen. She was well used to my love of discussing management and generally tried to stay neutral.
Hes hardly new anymore, Sophie; hes been here two months, she pointed out.
Still, I insisted, hes brought in loads of new rules, sacked a bunch of people
He got rid of the worst slackers, Emma countered calmly. And actually, our salaries went up. Plus, meetings are shorter. We used to be stuck in there for two hours talking in circles. Now everythings clear and to the point.
I paused, momentarily nonplussed, but quickly came up with a new complaint. But now we have weekly reports! Deadlines are tighter than ever
Emma just smiled. But projects finish faster and with better results. Youve seen it yourself.
I heaved a sigh, broke off a square of chocolate, and nibbled at it. Emmas arguments made sense, but I was nowhere near ready to admit the boss was right.
Fine, maybe but I still dont get him. I always thought he was single, but now its obvious theres someone. Maybe I should go ask HR
Emma looked thoroughly exasperated. Why do you even want to know? What difference does his personal life make to your job?
But I was on a mission. Mentally, I was already heading down to HR, picturing myself asking subtle questions.
Hes always discontented, nitpicking everyone. Maybe somethings wrong at home and hes taking it out on us! If only I could figure it out
Emma just shook her head. Sophie, get to work or hell sack you next for idleness.
But I was already fired up. No, I have to get to the bottom of this! Ill ask the girls, maybe someone knows.
Emma threw me a sceptical look. She probably imagined how this could end up the boss learning about my snooping and making my life difficult. Not that it would deter me. Once Im curious, I cant help it.
And so, I threw myself into my own private investigation. I approached colleagues at every opportunity, tossing in questions about the boss during conversationinnocently, of course. Has anyone seen him after work with anyone? Heard anything about his personal life? One by one, I accosted nearly everyone in the office.
But my efforts were fruitless. Either nobody knew or nobody wanted to say. Some just laughed, some feigned ignorance, and others brushed me off, claiming to be busy.
HR, in particular, was frosty. They listened politely before glancing at each other, clearly baffled by my nosiness. One of the women even raised an eyebrow and said dryly, Sophie, best to focus on your own work instead of hunting for gossip.
When I tried pressing, they told me, very directly, to get back to my desk and threatened to report my questions to management if I didnt stop.
I trudged back to my chair, dejected. Staring at my monitor, I felt my mind wander. Emma observed me quietly from over her screen, saying nothing, but I could feel her sympathetic glancehoping Id learned my lesson about interfering in other peoples business.
But I couldnt let it go! Even if everyone thought I was nuts, some spark of curiosity just wouldnt settle. People started laughing as soon as they saw me, asking, Got a crush, have you? Honestly, I couldnt even answer myselfbut I couldnt rest until I knew.
One lunchtime, I tried my luck with Brenda from accounting, the self-styled oracle of office gossip.
Brenda, you know everything about everyone! Tell medoes Mr. Wilkinson have anyone? Wife, girlfriend? I grinned hopefully.
Brenda looked up from her work, eyes wary but with an amused smile. Sophie, you know Im not one for gossip. Besides, why do you care?
I scrambled for a cover story, unwilling to admit the real reason. Just curious, thats all! What if hes single such a man I said, jokingly.
Brenda just shook her head. Even if he is, thats no reason to poke into his private life. Get on with your work, Sophieyour deadlines are already burning.
Days passed, and I fumbled through my internal investigations, scrutinising every word and glance. Eventually, my mind reached its own conclusion, both thrilling and terrifying.
Then, one afternoon, I barged into our office with emotions brimming over.
I like him! I blurted out without even closing the door, breathless and blushing.
Emma practically choked on her coffee. She put her mug down hard, staring at me in open shock.
Who? she managed, after clearing her throat.
Our new boss, of course, I replied in mock exasperation, as if she ought to have guessed. Thats why I want to know about his love life! If hes free, Im going to make a move.
Emma hesitated, then asked warily, And if hes married?
Ill steal him away, I said with a shrug, pretending utter carelessness. He seems miserable anyway. And youll help me!
Emma nearly dropped her cup again, but caught herself.
Help you how?
Just get information. At the staff do on Friday, walk up to himcasually ask why hes come alone
What if he doesnt? Or, what if hes interested in me? Emma countered.
Youre ginger and hes never shown a preference for that, I shot back, as though it was a proven fact. Thats literally all Ive managed to find out!
Emma kept quiet. I wondered why she looked so uncomfortable, but I was too caught up in my own dramatic plans to probe further.
***
That week, I could hardly sit still. I was scribbling notes in my diary, rehearsing lines in the corridor, picturing conversations with Mr. Wilkinson in my head. In the evenings at home, I stood in front of my mirror trying out different smiles, testing whether my stare looked both mysterious and warm. I fantasised about him noticing me, recognising my wit, my looks, my hard work. In my imagination, he divorced a wife who might not even exist, proposed to me, and we ran the company together, living in a lovely house, jetting off to Paris or Rome for business trips, discussing our future over candlelit dinners.
Emma watched all this with a kind of mild sadness. She knew I was falling for an idea more than the real person. She saw Mr. Wilkinson as he really wastired after meetings, caring at home with his family, paying attention to the smallest things at work. For me, he was just a shining trophy of success to chase, blissfully ignoring the likely messiness of it all.
Thursday came, and I couldnt resistdragged in a huge bag, hid it under my desk, and on my lunch break, sprinted to the loo to change into my new dress. It was a navy numberrespectable but a touch alluring, pencil cut with a neat belt. I adjusted every seam, checked my hair, spun in front of the mirror. When I believed I looked perfect, I presented myself to Emma.
Well, what do you think? I posed, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Its nice, Emma said carefully. Is it appropriate for the office party, though?
Of course! I need to look ten out of tenhe wont be able to resist!
She didnt answer, just watched me fret over my reflection, probably thinking reality wouldnt live up to my dreams.
***
Friday arrived. The office was decked out: fairy lights, bunting, a table crammed with sausage rolls, cheese, grapes and cakes. People began gathering, exchanging laughs and compliments on each others outfits.
I was one of the first in, new dress on point, hair and makeup better than any other day. I kept glancing at the door, nerves prickling at every movement, rehearsing my small talk with Mr. Wilkinson under my breath.
Emma arrived a little late, smart but understated as ever, blending in effortlessly. She didnt try to be centre of attention, just smiled and caught up with friends, the usual security blanket of her little black dress giving her calm.
When Mr. Wilkinson finally appeared, I felt my stomach tighten. He wore a crisp dark suitstylish, not too stiff. He greeted everyone, thanked them for their hard work, and climbed up to say a few words. His speech was warm, full of gratitudenot a trace of pretense.
I hardly listened; I was too wound up, convinced that every quick glance in my direction was weighted with secret meaning. When he finished, groups broke off, some heading to the buffet, others chatting or starting up music for dancing.
I spotted Emma by the window and hurried to her side.
Go on then! Nows your chance! Just ask himsubtly, likewhy hes alone tonight, I whispered.
Emma looked extremely uneasy. Sophie, I cant.
Why not? Come on, youre my friend. Please!
She paused, gulped the rest of her tea. I saw her gather herself, and then she looked at me right in the eyes.
I cantbecause Thomas Wilkinson is my husband, she said quietly.
I felt my face drain of colour, then flush dramatically. I stared at her, my mouth dry.
What? Youyou and him? Since when?
Emma brushed a lock of hair back, clearly embarrassed. Six months. We deliberately kept it quietdidnt want office talk, or anyone thinking I get favours. We just wanted to keep things professional.
I stepped back, a whirlwind of confusion and embarrassment churning through me. Memories suddenly slotted together: the occasional softer look from him to her, their silent understanding. What Id seen as professionalism now seemed obvious.
And you never told me I blurted, feeling unexpectedly wounded. All this time, and I told you everything. You couldn’t trust me with one secret?
Emmas voice was firm but gentle. It wasnt just my secret. We agreed togetherno special treatment, no hints. Only work at work.
I fell silent, picking at my dress for something to do, letting the shock pass.
How did it even happen? I finally managed. You didnt even get on at first
She smiled a gentle smile. We just clicked outside the office, really. Didnt plan it at all, and certainly didnt expect it. It just happened.
I stared at the floor, trying to process the demise of my fantasies. Everything had changed in a blink.
Then Mr. WilkinsonThomaswalked over, clearly sensing the tension.
Is everything all right? he asked, placing a protective hand on Emmas arm.
She nodded, but I couldnt stop myself blurting out, No, it isnt! You both of you you kept this a secret all along!
Thomas simply smiled kindly. Maybe we ought to clear this up, he said, loud enough for others nearby to hear. Everyone, can I have a moment?
The room grew quiet as all heads swivelled towards us.
I know Ive kept my personal life private. In truth, I married Emma here six months ago. We didnt want it to affect our work, so we kept everything completely professional. No special treatment, no exceptions. But since its become a matter of office curiosity He squeezed Emmas hand and turned towards our colleagues. Shes my wife. Thats it.
A ripple of murmurs swept through the roomsome surprised, some whispering to neighbours, some even clapping.
Well, congratulations! Brenda called out from the back row, beaming.
That was unexpected, someone else said in amazement.
Thomas patiently waited for the excitement to die down. I hope nothing changes in how we work together. We both believe in professionalism, and nothing about that is going to change. Now, lets enjoy ourselves tonight.
Music started up again, people began chatting, and the party resumedbut glances would be thrown at Emma and Thomas for a while yet.
I took a deep breath. Well, thats that. I suppose Ill need to find a new job now, I muttered, sorely aware of how intrusive my investigation had been.
What on earth for? Emma asked in genuine surprise.
Ive been harassing everyone, snooping, dreaming of a romance he must know everything by now. How can I look him in the eye again?
Dont worry about it, Emma smiled, reaching out and squeezing my hand. Hes forgiving. Nobodys really that bothered. Awkward, sure, but thatll pass.
Yeah, awkward, I agreed, glancing at Thomas who was back to laughing and chatting with colleagues. No wonder you always defended him at meetings. I thought you were just a fan.
Emma just laughed. I simply knew the truth, thats all.
We stood together, letting the relief settle as the music filled the room and laughter rose around us.
So is he happy with you, really? I asked, trying to sound casual.
Emmas face softened. Absolutely. I can feel it every day.
Good, I sighed in genuine relief, and offered my hand. Friends?
Friends, she said, giving it a warm squeeze.
And with that, the awkwardness melted away, replaced by something much lighter. The evening stretched aheadmusic, chatter, maybe even a fresh start, now that the secrets were all out in the open.
