‘Sure! But I have got this, and it’s staying!’ He dips into his pocket. ‘My drinks coaster.’ He waves the mat. The dreaded Man United emblem flashes before my eyes.
‘Now you’re pushing your luck.’ I can live with his coaster, if he can live with Mabel and Rodney. ‘And Elvis?’
‘Yep, Elvis stays. Fairs fair, eh?’
‘Elvis I can live with.’
‘No touching!’
I slide Mabel to the back of the desk with slight reluctance. My fingertips still resting on the feet. ‘Okay, I know you were just joking about me not touching Elvis, and I know this, er, might sound a bit childish, but you won’t mess with any stuff I leave, will you? You know, throw it away, or, anything.’
‘I was not joking! Touch him at your peril.’
I’m not sure if we’re joking here or deadly serious.
‘Honestly,’ he holds his hands up, ‘I won’t touch yours if you don’t touch mine!’
‘I’m certainly not touching that!’ I point in horror. ‘Manchester United? Come on, you can’t be serious?’
‘Totally. Reds all the way.’
‘This is never going to work. We’re sworn enemies.’ There’s a pause, and I look him straight in the eye. ‘Though I guess I should feel sorry for you, now your lot have gone down the pan and we are leagues,’ I stress the word, ‘ahead.’
‘In your dreams, Dixon!’
Everybody in the office knows I’m a Man City fan, blue through and through.
I shrug. ‘In the stats, Lowe.’
‘You wait, we’ll be back. It looks like we might need some kind of formal agreement here though before I start adding all my Red paraphernalia and my spider collection!’
‘Don’t you dare!’ I would rather have an empty desk than one covered in Manchester United merchandise. I’m not sure if he’s kidding or not.
‘Hey, you two, setting the rules, are we?’ I hadn’t heard Lou sneak up, and now she pops up between us, half blocking my view of Jamie.
‘We certainly are.’ Jamie winks at me from behind her back.
‘See you by the lifts in fifteen minutes, for lunch?’
I nod, feeling my face heat up as Jamie wanders back round to his own desk. He leans forward, as Lou wanders off. ‘Seriously, I don’t think your stuff is crap, it’s part of you and you’re the most creative person in this place, Alice in Wonderland.’
I do blush properly then but, luckily, he doesn’t see as he’s stood up abruptly and headed over to the coffee machine.
Maybe, just maybe, I can trust Jamie enough to share my desk with.
Chapter Eight
‘It’s going to be odd not doing this on a Thursday, isn’t it?’ Lou looks at me over her Subway Meatball Marinara, before taking a massive bite of it.
‘Very, I thought things were going to go back to normal.’ I like normal, I like knowing where I stand.
‘Wow, lush, I so needed that. God, I think stress makes me hungry.’ She wipes her mouth with a napkin and closes her eyes as she swallows it down. Then opens them and looks me full in the eye. ‘Save us some money though, I guess.’ She sighs. ‘I was so relying on that fucking pay rise we didn’t get. No chance now, eh?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so.’
‘You worked out how you’ll manage at home without using Kat’s room?’
‘I think so, I just need to suss out how to block out Della’s sex sessions.’
Lou knows all about my flatmates. She laughs a hearty laugh (luckily, she’s swallowed down the last of her lunch) which causes heads to turn. Lou is a head-turner for many reasons. Her laugh, her love of life, her tiny waist and big boobs, her generous smile and sense of humour.
‘Bet you’ll miss having poster boy Jamie to swoony smile at.’ Her eyes are still twinkling. ‘He’s going to be all mine!’
What’s worse, seeing him, or not seeing him?
‘Lucky you.’
‘Not so lucky for you! I won’t miss seeing Sal sitting opposite looking down her nose at me. Honestly, the faces she pulls when I try and eat a biscuit, even though I’m trying not to crunch.’
I smile. I’ve seen the looks Sal shoots Lou when she’s got a bag of crisps or a crunchy apple. Lou just goes into exaggerated slo-mo eating to prolong the agony. ‘God, she even told me off for using the stapler noisily once! How the fuck does one staple quietly?’ Lou is not the press-it-down-gently type, she’s the bang-on-it-with-gusto girl. ‘So we’re both glad we’ll be sharing a desk and not a day in.’
This is good stuff. Lou gets to keep an eye on my desk for me, and I get to sit opposite Sal. I’ve never had any problem with her. She just gets on with her work. It will actually be better seeing her than Jamie. She’s not the type of person to lean over my desk or borrow stuff without asking.
‘Your desk will look weird, babe. I’ve got used to not being able to see you behind all the shrubbery!’
‘I’m leaving Rodders.’ I grin back. ‘We agreed. What about you, leaving anything out?’
She shrugs. ‘I might have to take my supersonic sex balls that Lurve Toys said would give me an internal workout to beat all others home.’
She only left those on her desk because Sal flinched at the sight of them. ‘Gotta display the freebies from clients!’ had been her response.
‘Sal said she likes a clean-desk policy, and hers is as clean as it gets, just like the rest of her, so I said I was happy with that. She doesn’t give a shit what happens when she’s not there as long as it looks totally uninhabited when she arrives.’
Uninhabited. That’s what makes this so sad. Work is my happy place, and I have to work out how to hang on to that.
At least Jamie has made some kind of effort to find out what I think about all of this. And suggested I leave Rodney and Mabel, it’s a start. Now the rest is down to me.
‘You’ll have to watch your back, sitting opposite Jamie! You’ll never guess what he’d hidden on my desk when I got back this morning?’
‘Try me.’
‘A flipping spider! He knows I hate spiders, the whole office does!’
‘I reckon the whole street does.’ She chuckles.
‘Okay, okay, I don’t need reminding.’ There’s something about the way they move, or dart, and change direction, and go so fast, and you don’t know which direction they’re looking in. They make my skin crawl. So when one crawled onto my keyboard as I was touch typing, and the first I knew was when it tickled my knuckles, it was no bloody wonder I screamed and literally leap-frogged my chair, is it?
‘He’s trying to get your attention.’
‘Haha, course he is. He’s taking the piss, thinking he’s funny when he’s not at all. Immature.’
‘I reckon he fancies you.’ Lou rests her head on her hand and studies me. I get even hotter and more flustered, because who doesn’t when they’re being interrogated about talking to somebody?
‘Rubbish. He does not.’ God, if only she knew what the truth really was – my shame would be complete.
If the kiss had never happened, then we probably would have settled into some kind of jokey work relationship, like the one I have with Lou. Except it did happen, and it spoiled everything. It made me see that I am nothing to him. It made our professional competitiveness more personal. I mean, I can’t lose out on that as well, can I?
‘And you fancy him. You do, don’t you? At least a tiny bit?’
‘No, I don’t! Have you finished that sandwich then? Time to go back?’
‘Yep, I’m done.’ We stand up and she links her arm through mine, leaning in. ‘A teeny tiny bit?’
‘Stop it, Lou! Come on, we’ll be late.’
Lou suddenly stops and frowns. ‘What happened to your Soph?’
‘Oh, she had to cover for somebody at work.’ At least we’re off the topic of Jamie now.
We saunter back to the office and I feel strangely uneasy. Does he fancy me? No, of course he doesn’t. I know that for sure. We’re totally different an
yway. Nothing in common.
‘And he’s a Man U fan!’ I say, as though that changes everything. Did I know he supported the other side when I snogged him? Would it have made any difference?
‘Sorry?’ Lou pauses as she goes to press the button in the elevator. ‘You’re still thinking about Jamie! Aha! I knew it! You do like him.’
‘No I don’t.’ I lean in and press the button for her. ‘I was just wondering if he’s going to stick to our rules and not throw away stuff I leave on the desk, that’s all.’
‘Stop worrying, Alice.’ She gives me a big hug, pulling away as the lift doors open on our floor. ‘Joking apart, he’s a good guy, I’m sure he is. Not everybody is like Dave, trying to make you do things his way.’
Lou never really liked Dave. She used to say that he was bad for me; he wanted to run my life, that I was too good for him, that I let him walk all over me.
When I look back now, at all the little things, I guess I know she’s probably right. But he was good for me as well; he was always there when I needed a chat. I could always rely on him to help me make a decision when I was having problems.
I know if I rang him now, he’d help me see how this whole hot desk fiasco could work.
But I don’t ring him for help with work decisions normally, do I? If I can be professional and capable here, why can’t I be the same with the rest of my life?
‘Stop thinking about Dave!’ Lou’s tone is firm.
‘I’m not!’
‘You are. I can see that look in your eye. You got this girl; you don’t need that jerk.’
‘I know I’ve got it.’ I know my tone is cross, but I’m annoyed at myself, not her.
‘Good. Right, I better get back to Chris Hemsworth.’ She grins, then high-fives me. ‘Roll on Monday. See you later, babe.’ She’s fishing out her mobile as she turns away.
‘Sure.’
‘Oh wow, have you seen this email from the dragon?’ Lou spins round and waves her phone, but doesn’t wait for me to answer. ‘We can leave as soon as our desks are cleared. Yay! Result! Good luck for Tuesday, hun, have a good weekend.’
Tuesday. Bugger. I have to work at home on Monday.
I packed my box and wiped ‘our desk’ clean before I went out for lunch, leaving the spider-plant and Mabel balanced on the top of my pedestal. Seeing as Jamie said I could leave them. The surface was bare. Clinically tidy in a way that made me quite sad.
When I moved into my own place, Mum said I had a thwarted nesting instinct. I guess she’s right. Being surrounded by things I treasure makes me more than happy, it frees my imagination. I guess some people need a beautiful landscape, some people need the sound of crashing waves, or blue-sky space. I need my happy space.
When I lived at home it was hard. No privacy, nothing felt truly my own. Nothing was just mine – it was all shared, whether I wanted to or not. And then, when I moved, I soon found out it was more of the same.
I felt like I’d been squeezed out. Until I’d made my desk my own. And everything seemed to slot into place; I felt happier, I felt like I finally had space to think and my work kind of took off.
But once I’d cleared the desk, it was no longer mine; it was just furniture. So, going out for lunch with Lou had been the perfect distraction. The perfect break between then and now – time to move on.
I had told myself that when I walked back into the office for the afternoon, it would be to my new start.
But as I look at my desk my stomach hollows. Oh my God, this is for real.
A quick glance round confirms that people are either still out at lunch, or busy packing their boxes and checking for last-minute emails offering a reprieve (or in Jamie’s case, more hours at home), or they’ve already packed up and gone home early.
It already looks strange and empty. Eerie. Is this a sign of things to come? This is so weird. And sad. Like an ending. Except I must not think of it like that. It is a beginning. A new, different beginning that I am sure will have some benefits. Once I dig deep enough to find them.
Not even Jamie is at his desk. Yep, this is the future. I will no longer be able to glance under my eyelashes at him. I won’t be able to share a distant eye-roll with Lou.
Shit.
I sling my handbag under the desk and sink down on my seat. Then I see it. The sheet of paper propped up against the monitor, headed ‘Hot Desk Contract’.
Fuck. We’ve even got to sign a contract?
Hang on, there is a Post-it note stuck in the middle. The handwriting is round and precise. I pick it up.
Taken the afternoon off, any probs with the T&C leave me a note! J (p.s. sorry about the spider)
I can’t help it, I smile. Jamie! How did he find time to do this?
I’d always imagined he’d have flamboyant writing, to match his personality. But I suppose, now I think about it, he’s actually quite quiet – just hard to ignore.
Anyway, my own handwriting isn’t precise at all, it’s pretty much illegible. Mum always excused it saying that my brain was going too fast for my fingers. I tend to type if I can, it’s quicker. It takes me ages to write neatly.
I suddenly realize I am stroking the words with the tip of my finger and stop abruptly, with a quick glance round to check nobody has witnessed that, or the stupid grin I think is on my face.
I peel the Post-it note off the ‘contract’ and flip the title page over.
Contract between Alice Dixon and James S Lowe.
I wonder what the ‘S’ stands for?
‘You can go you know, once you’ve cleared your desk. As per the email.’ I jump guiltily and shove the sheet of paper under the desk. I hadn’t heard Diane the dragon lady marching past, obviously keen to get rid of all of us. She must be dying to get in here and wreak havoc, moving stuff and redesigning our space.
‘Sure.’ I sit down and root through my box, my fingers lingering over the stone with a starfish fossil that I found on a beach with Darcie – our first break away after her ‘accident’. I’m on the verge of crying again. It was a happy moment; she’d smiled properly for the first time in ages, and we’d hugged, then blubbed, then bought ice-cream and sat on the windswept beach with our hair whipping around in our faces and the sand sharp against our skin. I’d wanted to take a selfie of us, but it was too soon for her. So I hadn’t got a photo to look at, but I had got this.
It’s one of the things that Dave carelessly piled to one side when he was helping me ‘declutter’. I didn’t notice it was missing for an hour or two, then went into a panic when I realized it wasn’t in its usual spot.
And it is far more than just a ‘pebble’, but he couldn’t understand that. This fossil is about moving on, about being strong, about regrowth. About love. I blink. Does Dave even understand that bit?
‘Al?’
I glance up at Lou, who has noticed what I’m holding. Her smile is gentle and makes it all worse. God, why am I feeling so bloody emotional? It’s a desk, it is stuff!
‘You okay?’
I nod. ‘Sure. Fine. It’s just…’
‘Weird? But good weird, eh? It’ll work out, things will go back to normal before we know it! You want a lift with your stuff? I’m heading home now, but I could drop you off?’
‘No, no, it’s fine thanks. I’ve got an email to answer.’ She knows it could wait, she also knows I just need time. It’s how I deal with things – sitting quietly and thinking. The office is the only place I get that chance, more often than not after most people have gone, just as the cleaners come in. ‘Then I’ll get the bus.’
‘Don’t stay too late.’
I shake my head. ‘Don’t think Dragon Lady will let me!’
‘Have a good weekend then.’
‘Hey, you too! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t! Lou,’ I stop her on impulse, ‘I don’t think Dave really knows what love is.’
She glances at my hand, then meets my gaze again. ‘Not the way you do.’ Then she straightens up. ‘Hey come on, keep the emo stuff to pour i
nto your work, you’ve got a desk to sort!’
‘Yes, Mum!’
Lou laughs and waltzes out of the office, shouting out goodbyes to the few people that are still at their desks.
‘Well, Rodney,’ I swallow down the lump in my throat and move him 3mm to the right, as though my fingers need to claim some ownership, ‘you should be fine right here in the corner, shouldn’t you?’
I carefully put the stone, which I’ve been holding tight, at Mabel’s feet. Arrange the seashells and fossil in Rodney’s pot where they aren’t taking up any room at all, prop up the cat card in front of them, and then drop the contract in my bag. As I watch Lou go, and give her a last wave, I feel slightly guilty that I’m glad I put Jamie’s contract out of sight. It feels wrong, secretive, we share everything – but I didn’t want to share this. I don’t want to joke with Lou about it and turn it into something funny.
I’ll read it on the bus, where nobody is peering over my shoulder. Well, nobody who knows me.
The rest of the stuff I manage to squeeze into my pedestal. I don’t want to overstep the mark here and leave too much on view – I mean, what if Jamie didn’t mean what he said?
For a moment I really hated him for putting that spider on my desk, making me feel terrified in the one place I really feel safe. Just thinking about it now makes my heart pound a bit faster again. Git. But he did seem sorry. I have to trust he did. I have to trust that I can leave a part of myself here and it’ll be waiting when I come back on Tuesday.
Oh God, I really do have to sort my life. I shouldn’t have to hide everything here, I shouldn’t be so bloody relieved that I’ve managed to cram all the best bits of my whole life into a couple of drawers, should I?
I need to be able to take some of my inspiration home with me, so that I’m happy to work there as well. Without feeling I’m risking my housemates, ex, or family pilfering stuff.
I inwardly sigh. I can’t be yelling ‘don’t touch’ at people for the rest of my life, can I? There has to be a way I can make my life work, I have to be capable of creating a safe space where I can be me, that I can call my own. And the office isn’t that place.
Hot Desk Page 8
