‘That’s because you finish her food off,’ says Darcie.
Mum and Dad are just staring, open-mouthed. Mum frowns.
Shit. I’ve spoiled lunch now. I’m the one who is easy-going, who keeps the peace. Who Mum doesn’t have to worry about.
Soph does look quite impressive in only undies and high heels though. ‘Sorry, Mum, I… I didn’t think she’d just, but she…’
Mum looks at me and sighs softly. ‘I think we need warning if you’re going to stand up for yourself, Alice, Sophie isn’t used to you saying no.’
‘I do say no,’ I say, my cheeks burning.
‘But you don’t normally mean it.’ She rubs the back of her hand down my cheek, then picks up some plates and heads for the kitchen. ‘Don’t worry, you did the right thing, love. And she’ll be fine.’
‘I didn’t mean…’ Bloody hell. I push my chair back noisily, grab the jumpsuit and then rush out after Sophie. How the hell am I going to get this right? I upset Jamie when I shouted at him about the spider, and now I’ve made my sister strip off over the jam roly-poly.
How do people say no in a way that says they mean it, but don’t upset everybody?
My phone pings as I am running up the stairs. It is a message from Dave, asking if I got the flowers. I wondered how long it would take before he got in touch. Lou had suggested I message and tell him to stick his bouquet where the sun don’t shine, until I mentioned it could be tricky with something that size. I said I was going to just ignore it. She doesn’t know that half of it is my own fault. Whenever we’ve split up before, I’ve always been the one to get back in touch. To ask him for help. I’ve managed not to for absolutely ages this time, but I guess, like Sophie, he thinks I don’t mean it.
I scroll down.
Make sure you remove the stamens from the lilies. Right, that does it. FFS, what kind of man gives somebody flowers and feels the need to add instructions? I know you can be a bit lazy about these things, but a small input on your side will save time in the long run. Arghh! A bit lazy? Am I really so wet? At work I’m in charge of contracts worth thousands of pounds. I take control of my projects, make decisions. Set boundaries. Why am I so bad at it in my personal life?
And I trust you used the vase my mother gave you, rather than one of those cheap car boot sale style ones you collect?
Sophie pushes past me as I dither about what to text back, nearly knocking me down the stairs. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t come to yours again without a formal invitation,’ she says stiffly.
‘Sophie, I didn’t mean…’ My words fall uselessly into thin air; she’s already stomped into the lounge, slamming the door behind her. Shit. I’ll have to catch her as soon as lunch is finished, as soon as Lucy and Darcie go. Invite her for a drink, a chat.
I glance back down at my mobile. I haven’t got time for this. For Dave. Why am I even reading this stupid message?
In for a penny, in for a pound. I’ve already upset Soph, so I can’t make this day any worse, can I?
Please don’t send me things at work, or at all. I think it’s better if we don’t contact each other again. Alice. I hit ‘send’ with a flourish and grin triumphantly. Wow, I’m on a roll. This feels good, though. Unlike the Soph incident.
Shit. I’ve just burned my bridges and can’t call Dave if I’m feeling rubbish – and I can’t even chat to my little sis now either, I don’t think.
I take a deep breath. But I have got my other sisters, and Lou, and Mum. There are lots of people. And I’m an independent woman, for heaven’s sake. If it’s something Dave can help me with, then it’s something I can sort myself.
I look at my mobile nervously for a moment, as though expecting it to leap into life with a message. It doesn’t. I’ve got to stop. It doesn’t matter what he says, whether he replies or not. I am going to stop wasting my life.
I slip my mobile back in my pocket and head back into the dining room.
‘Okay, darling?’ Dad speaks softly, and I nod.
‘Fine.’ I smile and sit down at the table, even though I don’t really feel like tucking into what is left of my pudding now. My stomach has hollowed out, and my palms are sweaty. I don’t like rocking the boat, I really don’t like upsetting my sister. There’s the sound of the TV being turned on. Soph has gone in the lounge.
It will be fine, I will be.
‘She’ll come round.’ He winks.
‘I know.’ I reach across and pick up the necklace, then slip it into my pocket, feeling slightly guilty. But if I’m going to make this work, I have to actually change things. This is down to me.
I will not be caving into flattery, and I also will not be caving into bullying.
It is time I got a grip.
But I also need to get hold of Soph and apologize, no, explain. After she’s cooled down.
Chapter Eleven
Fuck, don’t you hate Monday mornings? I’m only half awake and desperately trying to grab just a bit longer, but big boots Harry is crashing about downstairs making his coffee and sending irresistible bacon aromas up the stairs that are making me feel hungry, and my phone is buzzing like a demented bee.
I reach out blindly and grab my phone and peer through half-closed eyes at the bright screen. Sugar, it’s only 5.30am This is not a real time. Humans should only be awake at this time if they have an early morning exciting flight to catch, or a puppy.
But maybe one of the messages is from Sophie? She often texts really late at night, long after I’ve fallen asleep, because to her the day doesn’t end until at least 2am.
Arghhh, I have six missed calls from Dave, and two more messages. Nothing from Soph, though. Bummer.
Dave never sends this many messages. I should have known he wouldn’t want me to have the last word on our relationship, wouldn’t want me to make the decision. He needs to be in control. Maybe he needs me as much as I need him; as a sounding board, an emotional crutch to hang on to when times are tough. Except ‘emotional’ is probably the wrong word for him. He only comes to me when he wants his ego boosting, or confirmation that he was right in some dispute.
I went to sleep smiling at Jamie’s contract and I’ve woken up to Dave hassling me. Why is life so unfair? Why does the guy who makes you grin and feel positive see you as a mate and colleague, and the one who wants to spend his life with you is so intense and interfering he makes you feel cornered and sick?
Or is that just me?
He says he is coming round. I can read that bit without actually opening the message properly. OMG. No way can I go back to sleep now.
Shit. How does he even know I’m working at home these days?
I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as I can and try to relax. Tricky when your teeth are gritted, and the anger is building. Why. Can’t. He. Leave. Me. Alone?
Chill, Alice, chill.
I sit up. I can’t ignore this, and didn’t I vow I was going to get a grip and sort things out?
Dave, I gave the flowers away. Please don’t send stuff. It’s weird and, my fingers still. I delete the ‘please’ and still hesitate. Is it wrong to lie? Just a little white lie. I have tried being totally honest. Saying it is over, that I’m not the right person for him, that we both need to move on and forget. That we had a good time, but it is over. Maybe Lou was right, I’ve been too nice. Not direct enough. Except direct in her way, as in ‘sod off and leave me alone you creep’ isn’t me. Should I? Can I? One little white lie, that might not be a lie for long, who knows? is making a new relationship awkward.
I hit send before I can change my mind. I mean, I’ve not actually lied. I didn’t say I was in a new relationship, I just hinted. And it would be awkward if I was. Who wants to glance over their girlfriend’s shoulder to see a text from her ex?
I’m not sure that will do it though. I need to be more direct, not use somebody else as an excuse, show him this is coming from me. As I said yesterday, we need a clean break. I’ll block your number, it seems sensible.
There, I’ve done
it.
Right. I can’t take it back. I should feel better. I should lie down, close my eyes and make the most of a lie-in. I don’t have to get up for at least another two hours. No bus to catch, no Lou to chat with.
Instead I glance over at my clock and see my necklace. Bugger. My stomach twists. I hate not being on good terms with anybody. I can’t just leave this, even though she’s not messaged. She’s my sister. I need to smooth things over. Hey, Soph, are you still talking to me? Come round for lunch? I hesitate before hitting send. No, no. Smoothing over is one thing, but I’m working at home today. I need to start as I mean to go on.
I delete come round and type meet up in town tomorrow. And add kisses.
Sorry can’t. Busy and too broke for lunch. Soph.
I hesitate. After 7pm, here? I’ll order a takeaway? Pizza?? A xxx
Maybe. Will check my diary. S x
I can’t help but smile. The offer of a free Domino’s was guaranteed to tempt her. This is good, we can talk. I can explain.
Feeling loads better, I jump out of bed and head for the bathroom.
7am
Wow, working at home is going great. The new desk organizers and boxes that all arrived on Saturday are brilliant – well worth the extra cost of next-day delivery. I have room for my laptop, I know exactly where everything else I might need is and can go straight to the right box under my bed or in my wardrobe when I need stuff and I feel totally – well almost – stress-free.
I’m still a bit worried about Soph and burning my bridges with Dave feels a bit strange. But it will be fine.
I wish I’d got this organized when I’d first started working from home; I never quite got round to sorting things out. Which was mega stressful, and why I was dreading this. But I’ve got my head round it now. This is for ever (or until I change jobs) so I have to do it properly. And who knows, I might get to like it! Plus, lots of other companies might decide that this is the way forward. The new normal.
The flowers on the windowsill that I treated myself to on Saturday, and the few bits and bobs that I’ve made room for make me smile. This is good. This is my space and I’ve already started to expand on the new autumnal conker-themed website and made a couple of minor tweaks that somebody else wanted to their contact form.
9am
Zoe’s hairdryer has been going full blast for at least a quarter of an hour. I am feeling less zen. I need to concentrate so that I can get this right.
I need next-day delivery. I switch windows, bring up Amazon, sign up for Prime (well worth it in circumstances like this, shame I can’t file it as a business expense) and order some noise-cancelling headphones.
Ha. I can do this.
The hairdryer is finally switched off, but now I know I will be ready and prepared when it happens again on Wednesday.
9.30am
I can still smell bacon. This is very distracting, and not even online shopping can cancel smells out. Except, hang on, the little bakery up the road can! I’ll just have to order in lots of yummy breakfast things so that next time I won’t be hungry.
10.45am
Kat is marching up and down the landing doing her best to make fudge ice-cream sound orgasmic (she does more advertisement voiceovers than she does Shakespeare plays), my God, how many ways are there to say, ‘velvety smooth and taste tinglingly good’? She’s been doing it for at least ten minutes and has now enlisted Della’s help. Della can make everything sound orgasmic.
There’s a rap on the door, then it is flung open. Kat does at least knock, one better than Zoe who just barges in.
‘Hey, Alice, you’ve not got any of that ice cream left, have you? I need to get the sensation on my tongue and in my head, and I couldn’t find the tub in the freezer.’
This is a joke. It was only working before everybody else started to wake up. I cannot, I will not, get up at the crack of dawn just so that I can get some peace.
‘Wow, it looks very professional in here!’ Della has followed her in. ‘You look busy.’
‘I am,’ I say, smiling as bright a smile as I can muster. ‘Look, I’m sorry.’ Don’t apologize, Alice! Don’t be sorry. This is your room; you are entitled to privacy and being able to work. ‘I am really busy, lots to do, so can we catch up later? When I break for lunch?’
They both stare at me blankly.
‘Sure, but if you can just…’
‘No,’ I say firmly, getting to my feet and advancing towards them. Maybe a bit too firmly as Kat is frowning. ‘It’s my work time right now. Pretend I’m not here.’ I pause. ‘But please don’t nick my food. I don’t take yours.’
‘Well, if you’re going to be like that.’ Della is backing up, but is not amused.
‘I need to work. Sorry.’
‘I let you use my room,’ says Kat.
‘I know, it was brilliant, I really appreciate it. Honest. But you weren’t here and…’
‘I let you share my dips!’ Della looks cross.
‘You asked if I wanted some, I didn’t just root about and take them,’ I point out. The fact that they were past their use-by date also seems relevant here.
‘Well, if you’re going to get picky…’
‘Can’t you just give me some peace for heaven’s sake?’
We glare at each other for a moment. Then they both back out and Della pulls the door shut – not exactly slams, but so forcibly it makes me flinch.
I can hear them muttering as they stomp off.
Fuck. This drawing boundaries lark is hard, no wonder I’ve not done it before.
It is quiet though.
I sit down in front of my laptop again and look at the email I was typing.
10.55am
It’s too quiet.
I can’t think, I can’t concentrate, because it’s too bloody quiet, and I feel bad. I open the door and there is nobody about. I can hear the faint sound of laughter in the kitchen and I feel left out. Isolated. Lonely.
I swallow down the faint feeling of panic. This isn’t what I wanted.
This isn’t me – I’m used to being surrounded by people. Somehow, I’m going to have to work out how to find a happy medium. How to claim my space without locking everybody else out.
I’ll go down and make a coffee. I’ve earned a break.
The atmosphere is cold in the kitchen. I walk in and Kat walks out, followed by Della.
‘Okay, Al?’ Zoe takes a mug down for me. ‘Coffee?’
I nod. ‘Is everybody always home on a Monday?’
‘Kat’s between jobs, I’m off to do a client in an hour or so, and Della says everybody is too stressed to think about sex now they’re back at work. She’s expecting an upsurge in a couple of months. Cheer up, it might never happen!’
‘I think it already has. I’ve upset them.’ I’ve not taken into account their lives, how they feel. How can I be so stupid? How can I know so little about them?
‘I can’t believe that. Not you, you’re far too nice!’
‘A pushover, you mean?’
She grins. ‘A bit but, hey, you stand your ground, girl. They’ll get used to it. See you’s later!’
1pm
I spent most of my lunch break going down to the bakery and buying cakes as a goodwill gesture. I left them in the kitchen with a note saying sorry and asking if we could chat about my new working conditions. I reckon I haven’t really thought this through. I need them onboard. They are my housemates and I like them, and this is about sharing as well as boundaries, isn’t it?
The rest of the day goes surprisingly well. Especially when Kat pops in with a coffee for me mid-afternoon and says, ‘You should have said.’
Soph texts to cancel because she’s got ‘a hot date’, but suggests tomorrow.
I go to bed feeling positive.
Chapter Twelve
I look out of the bus window and feel nervous, like the first day in a new job. Monday was weird. It was really strange not being on the bus or swapping stories about what people did over th
e weekend. I messaged Lou, who said it was like starting a new job. Our desks had been rearranged a bit, the giant fake potted plants had been lined up regimentally to mark the boundary of our office area and the other half of the floor was empty.
No furniture, no people yet. She said it made it all echoey and odd. Like moving into a new-build house and not being able to see it as a home.
I suddenly realize it’s my stop and hit the bell before making a dash towards the door.
The newly magnified flutter in my stomach isn’t because of the smell of bacon today, it’s because I am about to go into work and find out what the future at We Got Designs is going to look like.
Oh my God, I put my hand over my mouth and swallow down the sudden lump in my throat.
I don’t know whether I should be laughing or crying.
The other side of the office might be a wasteland, but my, our, desk isn’t. It isn’t bare and strange like I’d geared myself up to see.
A strip of yellow and black tape runs down the left-hand side, and along the top, then back down the other side. There are a variety of coloured sticky notes with ‘DANGER ZONE!’ written on them, then more with arrows pointing to the right-hand side of the desk, ‘MAN UNITED FANS ONLY’. Ha, so that is clearly Jamie’s side.
In the centre there’s just room for the PC, keyboard and mouse and a notepad if I need one.
Rodney is sat in the top left-hand corner, with my booby bird nestled below him. There is a label propped up in front of them – ‘Triffids and blue-legged ducks welcome’. There’s a smaller taped-off area down the right-hand side containing Jamie’s coaster and ‘Elvis’. I try to ignore the Manchester United logo. It’s all touching and annoying in equal measures. He’s not supposed to be being kind and making me cry!
It’s as though he knew how much trepidation I’d come in with this morning.
Hot Desk Page 10
