by Shears, KT
I shrugged.
‘The kind of men I meet when I’m out, they’re not anyone I could see myself with. Not really.’
I changed the subject, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable. I was aware of how close together we were sitting, and I rearranged myself a little bit.
‘I noticed a copy of Catch 22 in your office. Do you read much?’
‘I try to, when I have time. I’m trying to read the classics, but I keep getting distracted by reading things I’ve already read. When I get home and I’m tired, I can’t face starting anything new, so I just pick up an old favourite.’
‘I’m the same,’ I said, laughing. ‘You don’t want to know how many times I’ve read Pride and Prejudice.’ I paused for a second, seeing his face. ‘Oh, tell me you’ve read it.’
He shook his head, at least having the grace to look a bit sheepish.
‘I can’t say I have. Isn’t it chick lit?’
‘Chick lit?!’ I spat, horrified. ‘It’s one of the greatest books ever read. I’m tempted to end this discussion now; I’m clearly dealing with a heathen.’
He laughed and held his hands up. He had a lovely laugh, I thought, deep and infectious and genuine.
‘Alright, alright. I’ll look into it.’
‘Good,’ I glared at him and he laughed again.
‘I promise!’
I checked my phone and noticed a text from Simon, Jen’s brother, asking when he should come round to look at the car.
‘Oh I’ve lost track of time.’ I said, waving my phone. ‘My friendly mechanic wants to know when to come over.’
‘Traffic should have cleared by now,’ Matt said. He’d moved on to soft drinks after his initial beer, and he drained his glass of coke in one gulp. ‘Come on, let’s get you home before you turn into a pumpkin.’
I’d kept on the wine, and, as I stood up, I realised I was feeling a little bit tipsy. Great. I had to concentrate on walking as I tottered to the car but, thankfully, I managed the endeavour successfully and sank into the passenger seat with relief.
‘How are you finding it? Working here I mean.’
I glanced over at him, noting not entirely dispassionately that his arms were muscly as they gripped the steering wheel.
‘I’m enjoying it,’ I said, and was surprised to find I didn’t even have to lie. ‘I’m still finding my feet a little, so I’m not sure I’m being entirely useful.’
Matt shook his head vehemently.
‘Oh no, you definitely are. You’ve been great.’
I was pleased; who doesn’t like to hear they’re doing a good job? And such praise was rarely forthcoming from the lips of Dave Barry. In fact, it was never forthcoming from the lips of Dave Barry.
The traffic had cleared, and in 20 minutes, Matt was dropping me off outside my door. I was flattered and a tad embarrassed when he parked up and whizzed round to my side of the car to open the door for me.
I did a little curtsy as I got out the car, and then wished I hadn’t had so much wine.
‘Id invite you in,’ I said, ‘but I’m not sure watching someone repair my car is very interesting.’
I blushed, then, as I realised I’d perhaps overstepped a line – he was, technically, my boss, afterall.
Matt smiled and I thought I detected a faint note of pleasure in his voice.
‘Thanks for the offer. Give me a shout to let me know if your car is fixed; if not, I can pick you up again tomorrow. Goodnight, Alice.’
He waved as he drove away, and I waved back, standing on my doorstep for a second thinking for a second before I put the key in the lock and went inside.
Simon arrived shortly after. I’d known him since we were all children, so he could tell right away I was feeling a bit drunk.
‘You’ve been having a good time,’ he observed when I answered the door. I glared at him and he laughed, holding up his hands. ‘Ok, ok,’ he said. ‘Point me in the direction of your car.’
Luckily, it was just the battery that had gone, as I’d suspected, and Simon easily replaced it for me. I thanked him and paid him for the cost of the battery; he always refused any money for labour. I was starving, and ferreted through the fridge and cupboards, finally creating some sort of pasta concoction with leftover vegetables and cheese. The food made me sober up a bit, and I was embarrassed I had invited Matt inside.
I picked up my phone and quickly wrote out a text.
‘Car fixed. Thanks for lift and for entertaining chat. See you tomorrow. Alice.’
I wasn’t expecting a reply but my heart leapt a little bit when my phone buzzed a minute or so later.
‘It was my pleasure. I had a great time. See you tomorrow.’
Oh boy.
Chapter eight
I was afraid work would be awkward the next day with Matt after our little extra-curricular meeting, but he showed no sign of any awkwardness himself, and, gradually, I put it to the back of my mind. I started to get into my job a bit more as the week went on – there was a lot of juggling meetings about, and the phone was ringing off the hook. One day I was so busy, I didn’t even have time to take lunch. Matt was appalled when he found out, and disappeared from the office without a word, returning with a sandwich and a cup of coffee for me.
‘I can’t have you passing out in the office,’ he chided. ‘That’s bad for business. And I’d have to answer my own phone.’
He was full of these surprising little gestures; not just with me, but with everyone who worked there. If someone was having a visibly bad day, sometimes they would come back to their desk to find some chocolates there, or a silly doodle Matt had drawn with an inspiring message (or, more often, a ridiculous limerick, which couldn’t help make people smile). He left one for me after a particularly bad morning when I’d got into an argument on the phone with a very pushy salesman called Marcus Sloane who was determined he was coming in to meet Matt that day. I had to go out for some fresh air to calm down and, when I came back, I found a doodle of a little woman who, I imagined, was supposed to be me, and a limerick.
There was a young lady called Alice,
A girl without hint of malice,
Who answered the phone,
With a grunt and a groan,
Because it was that bastard Sloane
I fell about with laughter, and I propped it up on my desk where I could see it. Matt didn’t mention it when he came back the office, and I didn’t bring it up, but I knew he could see I had kept it, and I’m sure I saw him smile.
He had the ability to make anyone laugh, even stern-looking Doris in accounting would crack a smile at one of his silly stories. And crack was right – she had a face like stone.
His phone manner made me smile, too. He evidently preferred to talk to people face-to-face, and I cringed sometimes at his awkward dialogue. Whenever possible, he invited people in, or took them out for coffee or lunch and, invariably, his cheery demeanour and enthusiasm would win them over and he would return to the office and punch a fist in air, triumphantly.
***
I had my hands full that week. The office picnic was the following Monday and, while Matt had looked at the big picture (where, when, theme), there were many smaller details to be sorted out. I was in and out of his office constantly as we threw ideas back and forth. This was the first office picnic, and he was incredibly anxious it should be a success. He’d settled on the idea of a film star theme, with people expected to dress up, and from the babble of excitement in the canteen at lunchtimes, it seemed like a good one. One thing he hadn’t considered, however, was the food.
‘I kind of thought I’d just bring along some bits from the supermarket,’ he admitted, sheepishly, grinning when he saw my horrified expression.
‘You have almost 200 people coming,’ I exclaimed, rolling my eyes at him. ‘You can’t just give people a can of pop and a packet of crisps and say “thanks for coming”.’
‘Oh.’ This obviously hadn’t really occurred to him. ‘What will we do?’
/> ‘You’ll need to make sandwiches,’ I said, looking at him seriously. ‘Enough sandwiches for 200 people.’
He stared at me, aghast, and I couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.
‘I’m joking, you idiot. We’ll find someone to provide the food.’
After a frantic hour of calling round local companies, I finally found an incredibly helpful young man who had recently started up his own café and was hoping to expand into catering events. I ran through what I needed.
‘Sandwiches, meat and vegetarian, maybe some other nibbles like carrot sticks and dip, sausage rolls, that sort of thing. And some cakes. Oh and soft drinks, we’ve got the alcohol sorted.’
Matt had been dispatched to the local wine warehouse to stock up.
I could hear my would-be caterer frantically scribbling all my requests down on a pad of paper. He assured me that he could provide all of the above, and after a brief to-and-fro about money, the deal was sealed.
I’d been so busy with all the arrangements, that I hadn’t thought about who I should dress up as. I also hadn’t thought, I realised, guiltily, about my secret assignment. My notepad had lain dormant in my bag for a good few days now, and I hadn’t really found out anything newsworthy about Matt Westwall. I realised, with an uncomfortable feeling, that I had found out plenty of un-newsworthy stuff, such as his favourite music and his favourite colour. I knew Barry would be on my case, but I was…having fun. It had never occurred to me that working here would be fun – it had been something to be endured – but I found myself waking up and looking forward to going to work. Matt was a great boss; what he’d said at my interview was true, he wasn’t demanding. I found I even had to push him to hand over some things that a PA should really handle; he seemed so worried my workload would become unmanageable.
I smiled at the thought of that. Working at the paper, I often worked shifts of more than 12 hours (any overtime unpaid, of course. I couldn’t imagine the look on Barry’s face if I submitted an invoice for extra hours worked) so arriving here at 9 and leaving at 5 every day was a treat. The work was a pleasant surprise, too – I actually quite enjoyed juggling around Matt’s schedule. He also got me to check his correspondence, and, with my skill in writing, I was able to help him improve his documents.
He was always so grateful. Barry never said thank you, never said please, and certainly never said well done. Matt was full of praise – not just with me, but with everyone in the company. If someone had done a good job, they were told about it, and the morale in the place was sky high. Yes, I enjoyed working here.
***
When I got home that night, I sat down and tried to decide who I should dress up as. My own knowledge of films was woeful and I was lacking serious imagination, so I called Jen. She was always up for a challenge.
‘God that sounds awful,’ said Jen, when I told her about the picnic.
‘No no,’ I said, smiling. ‘You forget, Jen, that not everybody hates their colleagues.’
‘Oh. Really?’ I could hear the shrug in her voice and laughed.
‘Really. Look, come on, I need help here, or I’ll end up going as Shrek or something.’
‘No outfit required,’ Jen said, and I tutted at her loudly. ‘Right let’s think. You don’t want frumpy, no Queen Victoria in Mrs Brown, then. Ooh what about a Bond girl?’
‘Eh, I don’t know. What about Marilyn Monroe?’
‘Cliché.’ Jen thought a moment. ‘Hey, remember when were kids, and we use to dance around in the garden to Grease?’
‘Yes, and I always made you go as Danny.’ I laughed, remembering her indignant face when I proclaimed that, being blonde, I should always be Sandy.
‘Yes, you were a horrible child,’ Jen said. ‘But there, what about Sandy from Grease? Ooh one of my clients used to star in Cats, I bet she’s got a black catsuit in her wardrobe. And she’s a similar build to you.’
‘I don’t know, Jen,’ I said, uneasily – the idea of parading about in a skintight catsuit wasn’t very appealing to me – but she was off and there was no stopping her.
‘You can borrow my black shoes with the massive heels. And I’ll help you curl your hair.’ She gave a little squeal. ‘It’s perfect!’
Swept along by her infectious enthusiasm, what else could I do but agree?
Chapter nine
Matt had been stressing about the weather, and had taken to sending me texts over the weekend with the latest forecast. When I got up on Monday, however, the sun was shining brightly. Jen’s enthusiasm about helping me curl my hair had dissipated rapidly when she realised it meant coming to my house before she went to work, so I was forced to do battle with the curling tongs on my own. She’d dropped off the catsuit and accessories over the weekend – and she’d ended up staying and helping me polish off a bottle of wine – and I eyed them dubiously as they lay on the bed. It was too late for second thoughts, however, as I had no other outfit and Matt would be extremely disappointed if I didn’t embrace the theme.
The picnic was due to start at 11, but I wanted to get there early to make sure everything was in order. I planned to drive to the big park it was being held at, and leave my car there until the next day – I definitely wanted a few glasses of wine after the effort I’d put in. And maybe it would make me feel less self-conscious about the fact I was wearing an extremely tight-fitting outfit. I eyed myself critically in the mirror. I had to admit, the whole outfit worked well together, and I had actually made a reasonable attempt at curling my hair. Lashings of bright lipstick and heavy eye make-up finished the look, and a leather jacket I’d found in the back of my wardrobe completed the look nicely.
When I arrived at the park, I saw Matt’s Prius and parked behind it. I knew he’d already be here, given how determined he was the whole thing should go smoothly. I was also pleased to see the caterer’s van parked a bit further along. Well, at least he had turned up. That was half the battle.
I headed inside the park, and spotted Matt – he was talking to a young man who I guessed was the caterer, and the pair of them were pointing at various trays of food. I headed over to join them. Matt was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, and his hair looked…different. Sort of familiar, I thought.
‘Hello,’ I called as I neared. They both turned round. Matt and I stared at each other, in shock. If I had dressed as Sandy, then he was undoubtedly dressed as Danny. His hair was arranged into a quiff, and comb stuck out of his jeans waistband. He was wearing a black t-shirt with T-Birds emblazoned across the chest. He looked like a film star and I was torn between horror and attraction. The caterer was first to speak.
‘Oh matching outfits, that’s very clever,’ he said, nodding.
‘Can I speak to you?’ I hissed, pulling Matt to the side.
The caterer got the hint and busied himself with unpacking bottles of fizzy juice. ‘
This is a disaster,’ I said, desperately. ‘Why are you dressed as Danny?’
Matt looked indignant. ‘Why not? Why are you dressed as Sandy?’
‘Well, why shouldn’t I be?’ I realised with an awful feeling that neither of us had asked the other what they would be dressing up as, we’d been so absorbed with making the arrangements.
‘I don’t understand why it’s a disaster anyway,’ Matt said, looking slightly puzzled. ‘I think it’s actually quite funny.’
I sighed. He was right, it was funny, but I was pretty sure Sarah wouldn’t see it that way.
‘Maybe I should go home and change,’ I said, miserably.
‘No, don’t,’ Matt said. ‘You look fantastic.’ I noticed his eyes run up and down my figure and he reddened slightly.
I blushed a little too, and we stood awkwardly for a few seconds.
‘I’d better go help with the food set-up,’ I said, and hurried away.
***
I was right, of course. Sarah was livid. When she turned up (dressed as Marilyn Monroe, as I was to tell Jen later with delight) and clocked our matching outfits, she
had a face like thunder. She looked very pretty, but her obvious aura of displeasure put anyone off speaking to her, so she ended up sitting on her own at the edge of the group, drinking wine faster than I thought possible. I sighed. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing, and I just hoped nothing spoiled it for Matt.
He, of course, was oblivious. He was so relieved that so many people had turned up, and that everyone had embraced the theme, even Doris from accounting, that he was even more cheerful than usual. He walked from group to group, chatting with ease, leaving a trail of laughter wherever he went. Whenever someone mentioned our matching outfits, he shot me a quick, rueful smile, and then joked that we already had such a good working relationship, we hadn’t even needed to consult with each other.
‘We just knew,’ he would say, to laughter.
We’d hired a band to play in the afternoon, and as the wine flowed, people started getting up and dancing. Sarah remained seated, clutching onto her glass of wine. Her eyes followed Matt around, and I suddenly felt sorry for her.
She brightened at one point when Matt went over to speak to her. I thought she was probably pretty drunk by now, and I noticed her touching his hand when she was speaking. He seemed polite, but didn’t reciprocate, and she seemed crestfallen when he left to go and mingle elsewhere.
Later in the afternoon, feeling a little tipsy myself after a few glasses of prosecco, I found myself sitting beside him on a rug.
‘Well,’ I said, raising my glass in a cheer. ‘I think this has been a success, wouldn’t you say?’
Matt raised his plastic cup of beer and clinked it off my glass.
‘I’d say so. Largely thanks to you, I think. If it’d had been left to me, we’d have sat around with a pack of crisps playing Twister.’
I laughed. ‘That doesn’t sound so bad to me, you know.’
I stretched out on the rug and, after a second, Matt did too.
‘This was a really lovely idea,’ I said. ‘You’re not a bad boss, you know.’
Matt craned his neck to look at me, and he seemed pleased by my assessment of him.
