A Collection

Today was my first day back after my operation. I braced myself when the barrage of insults started from Howard. I aimed to write down every one. Sometimes there are so many I can’t remember them all.

At least my colleagues like me enough to send flowers and chocolates, I thought. Last Friday a huge bouquet of flowers arrived from the office - my favourites - pink roses and Stargazer lilies.

“Been anywhere nice then?” Howard asked, taking off his coat. He said he could see I'd put on weight, how the sling was unnecessary attention seeking and how I probably didn’t know the difference between masterbating and physiotherapy.

He expressed how disappointed he was to sign a card he believed to be bereavement, only to find it was ‘Get well soon’.

I was in constant pain, queasy from the anaesthetic, but I was determined he was not going to get to me.

“And did you get the flowers?” Howard asked.

I’d already sent a firm-wide e-mail saying thank you.

Howard frowned and said I shouldn’t look so pleased. He said they’d tried to get a collection together, but no-one wanted to give. He said it was awkward. He hadn’t realised how much I was disliked.

“Actually,” he continued, “it was so bloody embarrassing the Office Manager ended up buying the flowers out of nominal office account.”

The Office Manager quietly told Howard not to be so nasty.

As collections go, I'm not bothered either way. I have my own collection. It’s the evidence of Howard's bullying, his insulting e-mails and offensive amendments. More than once he has accidentally recorded himself on his dictaphone.

And I hope there will be no leaving collection for Howard if it all comes out.

See you soon

Eva x