He hardly even looked at me, just treated me like the girl at the next desk (which I am), or an annoying sister (which I am most definitely not). No flicker of recognition or attraction, no apologies or demands for a follow up. Nothing.
Absolutely nothing. What can be worse than that?
I mean, hey, why would he remember kissing a drunken girl in wellies, T-shirts and denim shorts in a muddy field? The place was full of them.
But how can you nearly kiss somebody twice and not remember?
And I was so sure I saw recognition in his eyes. So sure.
Half an hour later the girl I’d seen him talking to in the bar sauntered up to his desk and got the full-on charm.
I felt sick.
After that it got worse. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fleeting pressure of his lips on mine, and how a proper kiss would feel. He didn’t know I existed and was probably thinking about how his night of passion (yeah, I’m sure it went to that) with Claire went.
I was all worked up. Fizzing and fuming as I logged on to my computer and hammered away at the keyboard.
It didn’t get any better. I saw him talking to her a few times. But with me he just upped the teasing and winding me up. Our kiss and nearly-kiss had obviously never existed as far as he was concerned. He’d been drunk. He’d forgotten. He hadn’t forgotten Claire though.
Claire left the company a looong couple of months later, which meant at least I didn’t have to watch them together, and I was just the girl at the next desk that he liked to take the piss out of.
The worst part about all of this though, is that I can’t forget it. Not the embarrassment, but the fact that those brief moments when he touched me were so bloody hot. It wasn’t just the warmth of his mouth, the heat of his fingers that burned through my clothes so that the touch felt like we were naked – it was the way my whole body kind of jumped to attention and said hello in a way that has never, ever, happened before. Or since. With Dave.
It was scary. But nice. I couldn’t stop grinning, and bringing my finger up to my lips (weird, to check they were still there?) and grinning (yeah I know I already said that), and feeling all quivery inside.
It also made me feel guilty. Dave and I had always had a bit of an on-off relationship. He’s always there at the end of the phone if I need him, but he’s not always there for a hug. It’s like he holds back, dates are on his terms, and the promise in that clinch with Jamie kind of made me see what I really want. I want that, not what I’ve had with Dave.
Except it isn’t real. And Dave is.
But if I could feel that way about just being touched by Jamie, was it right to carry on? Was I being unfaithful?
Anyhow, after the clinch I decided I wasn’t being faithful, so we split up. And then some shit happened, and I rang him, and he said exactly the right thing, and he came round, and this was real life and nice and safe, so we got back together again for a bit.
Until I started to feel like somebody he took for granted again.
But then he’ll do something sweet when I’m feeling down, and it’s hard to walk away.
We’re not together right now. After he more or less said I wasn’t important enough to be in his Covid bubble of six so we couldn’t have sex for the foreseeable, I decided enough was enough. Not because of the no-sex, just because I don’t think he’s good for me. Even if he does know how to cheer me up or say the right thing when I’m feeling lonely or fed-up.
Whatever, he doesn’t make me feel like Jamie did, and he doesn’t make me feel like I really matter.
The past few months without Dave (a record length of time) or seeing Jamie (probably for the best) has been weird.
In a way it was a relief when we were sent home to work. I didn’t have to see Jamie every day – the avoiding eye contact thing had started to get a bit painful and totally embarrassing. It had been nearly twelve months since the corridor-bump, how ridiculous is that? I was pretty sure though that by the time the office doors reopened I’d have gotten over him, or he’d have left, or something.
Didn’t happen.
He even showered me with a party popper on the first day back, just to make sure I didn’t miss the fact he was there. Ha, no chance of that.
The moment I walked back into the office and sat down opposite him it was as though I’d never been away. He grinned his boyish grin and the same old flutter started up in my stupid body. The memory of that kiss was in my head the second his gaze met mine, my stomach was full of butterflies and I was aching to feel the touch of his hand on my waist again.
I have had dreams of pressing my body against his like some sex-starved loony and begging for more. It is so flaming embarrassing. I’ve never begged for more! I really need to work out how to regain control of my body when he’s in the vicinity.
I haven’t had a similar problem over not seeing Dave.
I suddenly realize that my fingers are on my lips. This is ridiculous. So is the fact that I’ve not wanted to look him in the eye, in case he can see how I feel – which is difficult when he sits opposite me. He probably thinks I’m rude and stuck up.
And that is why I’m not happy he’s the one that has been sent down to sign me in.
I’m also not that happy about the way Mel is gushing and practically fawning over him. Eurgh.
I also haven’t got time for this.
‘I’m sure you’ve got lots to do,’ I croak, needing to get away. From her, from him. And, we’re going to be late for this bloody meeting. ‘Sign me in, please, quick. We’ve got a meeting!’
He grins. ‘I know. You’re in a bit late today, aren’t you?’
‘Yes!’ I screech and scurry over to the barrier, hopping about from foot to foot as though that will speed things up. He doesn’t follow. ‘Jamie!’ I rush back, grab his sleeve and tug.
He chuckles. ‘I never knew you cared!’
I drop his sleeve as though he’s on fire. ‘I care about my job!’ I say through gritted teeth as he dangles the pass before me. ‘Thank you!’ I grab it, practically vault through the barrier and leap into the lift the moment the doors open. Well, just before actually. I think I’m going to have a nasty bruise on my arm.
I know he is looking at me. It’s unnerving. I stare straight ahead. Being trapped in a lift with Jamie is not how I wanted this day to start. This is even worse than getting the slow bus, being soaked by a woman and discovering I have forgotten my pass.
I am now a hot mess as well as a wet mess.
I look sideways at him under my eyelashes. He’s half smiling, he’s probably working out how to get the most out of this situation.
At least if we all get sacked, I won’t ever see him again.
He is so dishy. My stomach flips.
‘I didn’t think you ever did things like this.’ He breaks the awkward silence.
‘What?’ I squeak. Bloody hell, he saw me peep, he thinks I’m flirting in the elevator! I straighten up and stare ahead.
‘Forget your pass?’
Oh that. Phew. ‘I don’t normally.’ I can’t help but glance his way at the sound of his deep chuckle. He winks.
He’s not sexy. I do not fancy him. He is annoying. He’s always taking the mickey, just, well, just being like a pesky younger brother.
I have three sisters; I don’t need a brother as well.
Especially a shaggable one, that would be like mental incest, wouldn’t it?
He grins. ‘Glad to know you’re as human as the rest of us. Here we go.’ He puts his hand out to stop the doors closing. I open and close my mouth, goldfish style, trying to think of the right response. Of course I’m human, what does he mean by that? ‘After you. Aren’t you in a hurry?’
Shit, yes. I have less than four minutes left!
Chapter Three
‘You’re a bit late! Hurry up, meeting in five!’ shouts Jade as I scurry past her reception desk, peeling off my damp jacket as I go and trying to smooth down my frizzed-up hair. ‘Everybody is already in there!’
‘Shit, they’ve not started early?’ The office looks deserted. Nobody is sitting at their desk. My stomach lurches. Bugger, I really am late.
‘No, don’t panic. Here, give me your jacket, I can put it on your chair for you?’
‘Thanks, you’re a star!’ She isn’t, but it always pays to keep somebody like Jade on your side. ‘I was just going to…’ I point in the direction of the ladies.
‘Don’t worry about that, you look fine!’ She gives me the thumbs up, so I pat my hair down again, give my top a tug to straighten it, try to ignore the damp patch on my shoulder where the rain leaked in, force my shoulders back and march down the corridor towards the meeting room.
This is it. This is the moment I find out that I am jobless, and potentially homeless – because, after all, does anybody have more than just-enough money to see them through to the next pay cheque in their bank account?
Oh God, what am I going to do if they do close down the company and sack all of us? Or just sack some of us. Or just sack me.
I can feel the prickle of damp sweat between my shoulder blades, and suddenly realize I’m clenching my fists so hard my fingernails are digging into the palms of my hands.
I flex my fingers. Chill, Alice. Chill. It will be fine. You’re good at your job, you’re competent, they’re not going to just sack you.
The door is propped open and my heart drops even lower. It thuds to the bottom of my stomach, making me feel very unwell.
Heck, this meeting room really is small, and everybody is packed in without any thought of health and safety. Well, apart from the fact they’ve left the door open so that we don’t all go into a carbon dioxide-induced coma.
I look around wildly, trying to spot a space to squeeze into.
Yay, there’s an empty chair! I sprint towards it and nearly collide with somebody. We both stare at the chair with longing. Sometimes you covet a chair, like when you’re expecting a long meeting that has a message of doom.
‘It’s okay, you have it,’ I say with resignation when I realize who I’ve just bounced off. Mollie is tiny and quite well built. Only a heartless moron would push her out of the way.
‘Are you sure, Alice?’ she says breathlessly.
I nod and she shoots me a grateful glance before sinking down and I am left standing in the middle looking a bit of a lemon.
There is a hiss. It is Lou, waving at me and pointing at something by her side. Something big, bright yellow and round. I have been left with the option of a gym ball or standing room only.
I’ve always thought sitting down is supposed to be the best option when it comes to bad news. On the TV when the police knock on the door to tell somebody they’ve just found a dead body, they always say ‘I think you better sit down,’ don’t they?
And before you start to think I work for a trendy, progressive company which likes their employees to keep fit as they work, We Got Designs (and Management) isn’t. It’s a bit like musical chairs when we have a ‘big’ meeting. Well actually no, to be totally honest, it’s more like a scrum. You don’t want to be late.
We have stand-up meetings, not standing desks. Well, unless somebody donates one.
The company works on a shoestring, and any other freebie which comes its way. You’ve no idea how many clients are so overwhelmed by the quality of website we create for them that they feel the need to offload their excess products on us. I’m all in favour of handmade chocolates, food hampers and specialist gin, but sex toys and exercise balls?
Whoever came up with the idea of sitting on an exercise ball to work is not in their right mind. I suppose I should be thankful it’s not a sex swing (yep, we have a client who sells them). I mean, can you imagine doing this suspended in the air with your legs akimbo as though you’re expecting a kinky gynaecologist, not the sack?
Anyway, this is bad enough, and whichever bright spark decided to put it in the meeting room has the type of evil streak you don’t want to find in a co-worker.
I also reckon Jamie is sitting right behind us. I can’t see him, I can just sense him, and the hairs on the back of my neck are prickling. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of turning around to check though. I will pretend I need to pick something up from the floor and sneak a peek under my armpit on the way back up.
This sets off a dangerous mini-wobble, so I stop and sit very still. How did he get in here and get a proper seat before me? He must have snuck past while I was fannying about texting Soph back to say, I’m not kidding, it is actually happening, we are ALL about to be sacked. I was the last person into the ‘big meeting’. Even more last minute than I’d thought I’d be.
‘Everybody here?’ Diane the dragon lady stands up. Dragon Lady is not a compliment, and in no way alludes to Dragon’s Den, it’s more to do with her spiky hair, red face and the way she likes to leave you feeling singed at the edges. The fact that she’s leading the meeting is bad news, it is basically an announcement that we are doomed.
It is not going to be fine.
They send her in when they don’t want anybody to answer back, because she is truly scary. And she has all the power.
She once overheard somebody making a sexist comment about her and gave him the ‘Backpacking Women Wee on Their Feet’ account. He was basically in charge of designing a website to sell a female urination device that lets you pee standing up, without weeing on your feet, if you get what I mean. He had to spend weeks locked in a room with a development team who knew everything about full flow, weak flow and how it affects projection, and the pros and cons of durable cardboard and latex, and what will go in a backpack without sanitation or smell issues. After a week of that he went off long-term sick.
Couldn’t have happened to a nicer male chauvinist twat.
Like I say, don’t mess with the dragon lady. I think I am scared of, and admire her, in equal measures.
‘We’re fucked,’ whispers Lou in my ear, sending a trickle of fear into my stomach and the rest of me nearly onto the floor. She grabs my elbow just in time. Sitting on this exercise ball, instead of propping myself up against the wall, was definitely a mistake.
Particularly when I seem to be slowly liquifying.
Who in their right mind wants to be holding their stomach in, pressing their knees together and have their feet splayed out, trying to stop their buttocks wobbling about, when they’re facing redundancy? I probably look like a constipated chicken, and if anybody sneezes unexpectedly there’s a good chance I’ll end in a heap and the ball will take out the whole of the back row. A sex swing would actually have been safer. I’d have been roped in.
‘Right, we’ll keep this brief. But,’ Diane turns slowly, glaring at each of us individually, working out who to fry first. This sets off another mini wobble, but this one is inside me. ‘If you didn’t get personal notification of this meeting, and just decided to follow the herd and come in anyway, please leave now.’ There’s a long pause. ‘Darren.’
Darren who has just got engaged and has a (very) pregnant girlfriend flinches. ‘I thought maybe I’d missed the email, and…’ Diane shakes her head, he stands up reluctantly looking like I feel (about to burst into tears that is), then edges out. I’m tempted to go and grab his chair, but it would involve clambering over people. Unprofessional. And in these heels, possibly scarring for life or impaling bodily parts I shouldn’t.
‘You have mail now though, Darren,’ Diane says with an evil glint in her eye. She opens her mouth again, but two more people stand up guiltily before she has chance to name and shame.
So ‘all staff’ didn’t actually mean ‘all’.
I’m not sure if they are the lucky ones who are keeping their jobs, or they don’t even warrant the explanation. Knowing Darren, and the fact that he takes regular ‘planned’ sick leave on a Monday, and last week he accidentally published the test version of a website that sent you to a page saying ‘LOSER’ if you clicked on ‘more information’, I suspect the latter.
The door clicks shut and Diane stri
des over to make sure nobody is lurking by the keyhole. ‘Right. Steven.’
Steven, the MD, does not scurry out – though he does look like he wants to. He stands up. Coughs awkwardly, then stares down at the sheet of paper he is clutching.
‘Well, well, welcome.’ This is not a speech impediment, he starts off most conversations with ‘well, well’. I think it gives him time to gather his thoughts. He pushes his glasses further up his nose. Steven is an internet geek, not a man-manager. I don’t think he really knows how to deal with other (less intelligent forms of) human beings. He started up this company from his home, with only a cat for company, and I think he would have been quite happy to keep it that way. Employees complicate things. ‘As you, er, know, times are difficult for, er, everybody in this er, economic downturn. We’ve always been able to er, soldier on, but some of our clients have been, er, experiencing problems and had to cut back, or, er, close down.’ He coughs again as though it was painful to say the words. Diane twitches, I can tell she’s dying to grab his sheet of paper off him and read it out herself. I can’t blame her, so am I. I’m developing a nervous twitch. ‘The first major loss for us was of course Lurve Toys.’ Lurve Toys are (or were) a major client; they regularly asked for re-designs of their website, created new offshoot companies, asked for updates and generally paid us a ton of money to manage the IT side of their business. ‘They have gone to the wall.’ A nervous ripple of sniggers goes around the room like a Mexican wave, which falters when it gets to Diane.
‘I thought shagging increased in a recession?’ hisses Lou.
‘Mine hasn’t,’ I hiss back, out of the side of my mouth, trying not to move my lips.
‘When our clients are up against the wall, we’re the first hole they plug.’ Steven drones on in a monotone.
‘Are we still talking about Lurve Toys?’ Lou seems to have decided to bluff this out and not panic. I don’t know how much more of this I can stand though. She nudges me with her elbow when I don’t immediately reply. But I’m not at all stable, and if I as much as snigger, let alone start laughing, there is no way I’m going to keep my balance. The best approach is to stare straight ahead and work out how long the tins of soup I’ve got in my cupboard will last if I only have half of one each day. Presuming nobody has nicked them.
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