‘Sadly, we must acknowledge that we are the end of the, er, chain. When a retailer starts to fail, we are the first choking point.’
‘Like Lurve Toys who allegedly nearly strangled a client,’ Jamie, who is just behind me as I suspected, mutters. He is grinning when I glance his way. He’s definitely got that naughty-boy look about him today.
Not my type at all, I don’t know what I was thinking, and very annoying at times. I mean, just because you’re compatible on the kissing front, doesn’t mean you’re compatible in any other way, does it?
‘Wow, really?’ Lou leans across me. She fancies him. I wonder if I should try and roll out of their way. If he went out with my best work friend, then he’d definitely be out of bounds. And out of my head forever.
‘Got sued when a sex swing failed. Dangerous things.’
See, I knew it.
‘And you’d know, would you?’ Lou is going into full flirt mode.
He raises an eyebrow. ‘I bet Alice would.’
‘Will you two shush.’ My cheeks are burning. Why has he brought sex swings up now? Can he read my mind? I can also see Diane preparing to go into battle to silence the masses for her boss. ‘If we get sacked for insubordination, we won’t get redundancy money, will we?’
‘So, there are, er, cuts to be made, so that we can see this through, and come out the other side all, er, guns blazing.’
See this through? I perk up a bit. That sounds promising. Maybe life as I know it is not about to end.
‘We are expecting things to pick up again soon, but er, in the meantime, I hope you will all throw yourselves into our new way of working. Right, er, I’ll leave you with Diane, who can er, answer any queries you might…’ He’s already tapping away on his mobile phone as he walks out of the room, head down so that he doesn’t accidentally make eye-contact with anybody and have to answer a question.
New way of working? Did I miss something? I glance around, confused. Am I not being made redundant?
People are blinking and turning heads, owl-style, and frowning. I don’t think I’m the only one who feels like part of that announcement was missing.
Diane looks around. Daring us to say anything.
‘You will all receive an email with full details. If you aren’t happy to continue under the proposed new conditions, let HR know ASAP,’ she hisses the letters out. ‘Although under the present climate…’ She doesn’t have to finish her sentence. We all know she’s got us by the short and curlies.
She sweeps past us just as I try and stand up again on my wobbly legs, and I nearly take her out.
My mobile vibrates as I’m walking back to my desk.
Well? S x
My sister Soph likes to be the first to know the news. When you’ve got three sisters it can get quite competitive. To be fair though, I am closer to her than the others. We share the same sense of humour, shitty salary, hairdresser and taste in clothes…
Was that my jumpsuit you were wearing on your Insta photo? A x
Maybe. But WHAT ABOUT YOUR JOB? S xx
Yes, why am I stressing about flipping clothes right now?
Not sure yet. All the deets are going to be in an email. You’ll be the first to know! A x ASK NEXT TIME, you know it’s my fav outfit.
Sometimes I wish we were nowhere near the same size. What makes it worse is that she usually looks better than I do, in my clothes.
I had thought moving out of the family home would help on the sharing front. Give me some privacy, but Soph seems to spend more time at my place than she does at her own. She says it’s cool.
I mean, I can’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to still be in my childhood bedroom, but she’s not got much choice at the moment.
You’d say no S xxx
Exactly! x It’s bad enough sharing a house with people who adopt the ‘what’s yours is mine’ philosophy, without having your sister come and go as she wishes as well. Touching, but annoying. My dream of a house, or even a room, of my own still seems to be just that. A dream. At least I’ve got my desk back though.
A loud bang makes me jump and look up from my mobile phone. Darren is slamming his stuff into a box with undue force. He is swearing under his breath. There are a lot of F words. I have a bad feeling about this email; just thinking about it is making me queasy with anticipation.
I need the loo. Not only did I not have time to go to the toilet when I got into work and am absolutely bursting, I also need a splash of cold water and to give myself a pep talk in front of the mirror before I go back to my desk.
Why didn’t they send it last thing, so that we could go home and weep over it in the comfort of our own homes? This seems a pretty sadistic way to kick the day off if I’m honest, I bet it was Diane’s idea.
Chapter Four
‘What are those?’ After a quick diversion to the ladies’ loos, I got to my desk to find Jade, our receptionist, sitting on my chair.
Why is she there? Can’t she stand up like anybody else would do? I need to sit down.
My whole body is still trembling from the effects of the exercise ball and having to tense muscles that aren’t used to demands like that. And from the whole being-late-for-work and being petrified I’m about to be sacked, then not knowing what is about to happen. The whole thing is so stressful. It feels like I’ve been at work for hours already, and it’s not even ten o’clock. I am exhausted.
‘Flowers?’ She tweaks the foliage on both sides, then twists round to face me. She lifts her already very arched eyebrow slightly and looks at me as though I’m mentally deficient.
‘I know they’re flowers, I meant what are they doing on my desk?’ There is not enough room on my desk for flowers, especially ones that have obviously been delivered to the wrong person.
‘They’re for you?’ I’ve never known anybody manage to answer every single question with another one. She smiles as though she is personally responsible for the bouquet.
Jade is lovely, but a bit of a gossip. I reckon the question thing is a strategy to find out as much as possible as quickly as possible.
‘Me?’ I frown. I’m confused. Sitting down might help, I straighten my jacket on the back of the chair as obviously as I can. She doesn’t take the hint. I consider wheeling her to one side.
‘Don’t you think they’re gorgeous?’ She sounds a bit put out. Then it dawns on me.
‘Oh.’ My legs are boneless, and I’ve come out in a sweat. She is personally responsible; she has arranged a collection – this is my leaving present. ‘Yes. Do you mind if I?’ I wave a hand at the desk.
‘Somebody loves you!’
I’m confused. Somebody, as in not the whole office?
They’re not my leaving present! How stupid am I? No way would she have had time to have a collection, plus if I’ve been sacked I can’t be the only one who gets a leaving present. Darren definitely hasn’t got one. And nobody else has Jade and an OTT bouquet on their desk.
I don’t think she is going to get off my chair until she gets some answers. I could just wheel her and the chair out of the way and power up my computer. I mean, standing up while you work is supposed to be good for you, isn’t it? But I’d still have the issue of no working space.
‘Loves me?’ It’s not that I feel completely unloved, it is just that I wasn’t expecting any extravagant floral arrangements. It’s not my birthday, I’ve not been ill, and I do not have a new, hot admirer.
She leans forward, resting her forearms on my desk. She’s here for the duration. ‘Always in my heart, it says on the card?’
Unless somebody thinks I have died. Don’t ‘always in my heart’ and ‘never forgotten’ often accompany a coffin?
‘And on the other side it says, “Happy first date Anniversary”. Look.’ She scoots the chair over a few inches and ushers me in closer, so that I can see the card that is hanging in a prominent position at the front.
To be fair, the bouquet is pretty impressive, but my desk has a lot of stuff on it, so the space i
s easily filled.
‘Oh my God, how sweet is that?’ She sighs dreamily, stroking a rose petal. ‘How many years?’
I look at her blankly. ‘Years?’ How can I not know it’s my anniversary? Maybe we’re talking months here, or weeks. Surely that guy from Tech, who I accidentally made bodily contact with over a coffee a week ago when he recovered all my work that had disappeared doesn’t think it’s a date worth celebrating? It wasn’t even a deliberate thing, more of an accidental peck on the cheek when I leaped in for an impulsive (and possibly sackable-offence) hug, and he spun round in shock, and well, our faces kind of clashed instead of went cheek to cheek. He definitely didn’t look like the sort of guy who sends flowers. Shit, have I somehow started something without knowing it? ‘Are you sure they’re for me?’
‘Yeah definitely for you, Alice, and it says, “Time for a get back together to celebrate? Dave” with kisses.’
Phew, not tech guy. But shit. Celebrate? Grrr, this is typical Dave. He just ignores the fact we’ve finished when it suits him. I got so bloody fed up waiting for any sort of commitment from him because it was always on his terms, when it was convenient.
And why does he have to do this to me now? It’s almost like he’s got this sixth sense for when I’m vulnerable, when I might need him. This is the longest period of time I’ve ever managed to stick to my guns and not get in touch with him. And now he’s going to ruin it. I’ll message to thank him; he’ll message back and, before I know it, we’ll be back to the easy-come-easy-go relationship that I know isn’t good for me. Easy, but not good. He’s got bored, needs a date, or needs a shag, or is just wondering how I’ve stayed away this long. He’s good at finding reasons to see each other, when it suits him. If we’d been ‘on’, no way would he have remembered this.
Dave was a bad habit; I’d relied on him for far too long and I’m not going to start again.
‘Why didn’t you mention that bit first?’ I don’t need this right now; I am not going to cave in and run to him for reassurance about our office changes. Whatever they are.
Although he is quite good on employment law and… No! I must not call him.
‘I’ve only just seen it; I haven’t been reading your personal notes!’ Jade says slightly huffily – letting go of my personal note. ‘Aww, it’s so romantic.’
‘It’s not romantic, we split.’
‘It’s still so cute that he remembers!’ She sounds all dreamy.
‘We split up ages ago.’ This is ridiculous. Dave is no longer in my life, and that’s final.
Why are so many men like that? They never send flowers when you’d really like them to, then, all of a sudden, decide to when you’re so over them. When it doesn’t matter anymore. You only get them when you don’t want them.
‘Awww, sweet. My boyfriend doesn’t remember stuff like that and we’re still together.’
She’s missing the point. To be honest – and I didn’t realize it at the time – Dave can be a bit controlling. It seemed sweet and made me feel safe at first. Then I realized that I don’t want somebody to run my life, I don’t need it. Dave is another reason for so much of the stuff I really value being here, on my desk. The fact I’ve more or less moved in, minus a bed. He used to throw away any of my stuff that he thought was rubbish. Then deny it was him when I found it in the trash. He also meddled and tried to make decisions for me.
He wasn’t that keen on me staying over at his place, but he was more than keen to stay at mine when it suited him. I guess it’s easier to walk away when you feel like it, than chuck somebody out when you’ve had enough.
One of my housemates even let him in when I wasn’t there, because he looked sad. For fuck’s sake, he’s a guy, not a puppy. It might sound wrong, because he was my boyfriend, but it made me feel like my space was being invaded. That it wasn’t just mine anymore. He’d actually do things like rearrange my toiletries into a neater order and bin the old receipts and bus tickets that were on my dressing table while he was waiting for me – for something to do. I wouldn’t dream of doing that if I was at his place.
I can’t stop staring at the flowers. I don’t want them here, on my desk. It will tempt me to call him if the email is really bad news.
‘You have them, Jade.’
‘Gosh, what? You’re being serious? Oh no, I couldn’t!’ She sneezes, hard, straight into the bouquet. ‘Oops. Sorry, hayfever!’
‘Of course you can! Anyway, there’s just not enough room for them unless I move something else.’ Which I am not going to do. This is my desk we’re talking about. My space. ‘Is that the phone ringing, Jade?’
‘Oh, bugger.’ She stands up, but kind of slumps. I think Jade finds her actual work a bit of a nuisance, it interrupts her day. ‘Suppose I better answer it.’
‘Take the flowers. Honestly.’
‘Really?’
‘Really, you’d be doing me a favour, you know, bad memories.’ That one always works.
She beams and picks them up. Then holds them out at arm’s length in my direction. ‘You sure?’
‘Positive.’
‘Aww, I know what you mean. It’s horrible, isn’t it, when it ends and all you can think of is what it was like, and what they might be doing, and…’ I nod in agreement, it’s easier. I resist the urge to push her away. ‘I’ll put them on reception, so if you change your mind?’ I won’t. ‘Don’t forget, check your emails, chick!’
I won’t forget to do that either.
I plonk myself down with a sigh and pull my keyboard back to its normal spot. So far this day has been stressful with a capital S; I need some soothing work to do.
My computer takes an absolute age to power up, it’s worse than waiting for somebody to turn up at the pub. When you’re starting to think you’ve got the wrong time, or day. Or they hate you. Or nobody told you that the plan has been changed.
I furtively glance over the top of my monitor at everybody else. To see if they’re reading the email. Nobody is crying. Good sign. Nobody is talking. Bad sign.
Jamie catches my eye, so I look down. ‘Stop panicking.’ His tone is mild, reassuring.
‘I’m not.’ I suddenly realize I’m tapping my fingers on the desk, so stop.
He’s leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. Nothing panics Jamie. Life is too much of a joke for him. This is the other annoying thing about him – if you ignore the fact that he didn’t even notice our snog – he sails through life, treating it as fun, and yet still manages to get the same promotions as I do. And sometimes he gets even better client accounts than I do. And he’s not better at this than me, he’s really not.
We started here on the same day and I know I shouldn’t let myself be drawn in, but the dragon lady made sure that we both knew we were head to head when it came to impressing clients. So it is a teeny-weeny bit competitive. Particularly when she started to remind us about our annual review, and possible promotion openings, and then he started to talk in that sexy jokey way of his over the phone and got clients begging for his services (yeah, I know how that sounds – it is how it feels) before they have even seen his work. Unfair, totally unfair. I mean, when I’m nervous and pitching I sound more cat on a hot tin roof than purring kitten. Not that I want to sound like a kitten, but he’s just got this infuriating, laid back, I-think-you’re-fascinating charm that I can’t compete with.
It is annoying, so is he, and I’m not going to let him bloody well get that pay rise before I do.
Okay, I can obviously see why Lou flirts with him, but it isn’t all about looks, is it? Or kissing prowess. Well it isn’t at all. About looks. I can testify to this after dating the incredibly suave, nicely toned, slightly-obsessively-groomed Dave. When I say ‘slightly-obsessively’ this just about sums up his whole character. He is the type of person who would pick stray hairs off your jacket, and wipe smudges off your cheek, and rearrange the food on your plate before you were allowed to eat it. Not always. That would be weird. But he didn’t like misplaced sal
ad leaves, or drips of gravy. I liked it at first, being taken care of, it was cute, then it got annoying. Who wants their lettuce manhandling? Eurgh. Why did I date him for so long?
Shit, why am I thinking about him again? This is what happens when I’m stressed.
Jamie is totally different to Dave in every way. He’s not suave, he’s more a dimples and cheeky grin kind of guy, and when he leans in to listen to you, he looks like he’s interested. Unlike Dave, who more often or not was studying me during a conversation because he’d spotted sleep in the corner of my eye, or a potential spot on my chin – not because he had an irresistible urge to kiss me.
But he is a good listener, when he’s got time. Although we quite often had to ‘circle back later’, or he’d ‘ping me when he had five’. I didn’t want ‘pinging’, I wanted a relationship.
And relationships are supposed to be about emotional connections and support, not just practical advice and sex now and again, aren’t they?
Not that Jamie is interested in even pinging me, he’s even less interested than Dave. On the attraction scale he obviously rates me sub-zero. But he still has to talk to me and tease me. I reckon he’s doing what my gran used to tell me to do ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’. And wind them up and irritate them if you can.
‘I thought people liked getting flowers.’
I jump guiltily, at least Jamie can’t read my mind. ‘Not from people they don’t want them from.’ I raise a finger to tap again, realize and stop myself just in time.
‘You and Dave aren’t an item anymore?’
‘Uh-uh.’ I shake my head.
‘But he’s still keen.’ It’s a statement rather than a question.
Yeah, when it suits him. I’m like an Amazon Prime subscription; he wants to be able to start me up when he needs me, then mute me for a bit.
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