Two Years After ; Friends Who Lie ; No More Secrets

by Paul J. Teague

  ‘Things have been a bit tough, as you’d expect,’ Rosie said, trying her best to reassure him. If she was to hang onto her job, she’d need to give the impression of calm confidence and stability. A whiff of mental illness, and her phased return would swiftly turn into a sudden departure. It was a new rule book now; David was there for a restricted handover period, and once he’d gone, she’d be out on her arse if she didn’t perform.

  ‘Well, look, just a word to the wise,’ David said in a conspiratorial tone. ‘If you have any problems – and I mean anything, Rosie – talk to me first. It’s pretty obvious they can’t wait to show me the door, but while I have any influence here, I’ll do my best to help you get your life back to normal. Don’t hesitate, promise?’

  ‘I promise,’ Rosie replied. It would be impossible to have a better boss than David.

  ‘Okay,’ he continued. ‘With that said, it’s time to introduce you Edward Logan, our very delightful head of HR. Or as I affectionately like to call him, The Terminator.’

  Chapter Three

  If vampires could go out in the day and feed on souls rather than blood, then Edward Logan would be one of them. His slicked-back hair, perfectly groomed beard, black suit and pointed shoes made him look like he’d just stepped off the set of a Hammer Horror movie. He out-vampired Christopher Lee.

  Rosie shivered as she walked into Edward’s office – David’s old office. He kept it ridiculously cold in there, as if any burst of heat might awaken his heart and swiftly return the humanity to his host body. He was the perfect man for a job in HR.

  The decor of the office reflected the man who occupied it. The paintings that hung on the walls were sparse and unenthusiastic, made up of spindly lines drawn with thin black and red ink. His desk was immaculately tidy, giving the impression of a man who had little to do until the excitement of new redundancies reared its head, or an opportunity arose to take down a member of staff through some performance review process or other HR device designed to squeeze out a new hard-working member of staff from their much-needed job. The only items on his desk when Rosie stepped in were an expensive ink pen and a camera.

  ‘Ah, Rosie Taylor, staff number 347265L, welcome back to Silverline Supply Chains.’

  He stood up calmly, got out from behind his desk and walked over to Rosie. She readied herself for a handshake, but Edward gave her a cold, lifeless kiss on the cheek. The HR guidebook definitely said nothing about that as an acceptable greeting.

  She mangled her words for a few moments, then managed to release a fully formed sentence.

  ‘It’s good to be back here. You’ve certainly made some changes to David’s office.’

  ‘Now my office. As Director of HR, I take priority in the hierarchy. David Willis will be leaving us soon.’

  ‘He set up a remarkable business here; I’m sure his expertise is very much appreciated during the handover period.’

  ‘His skills are obsolete, and I’m keen for him to move on now. We’re good here; we know what we’re doing.’

  Rosie wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Edward Logan could obviously take a conversational topic and kill it dead in its tracks, bludgeoning it for good measure. She changed the subject, moving it away from her former boss.

  ‘Well, it’s good to be back. I can’t wait to get stuck in.’

  ‘Yes. About that. Things have changed since you left. You’ve placed a considerable financial burden on the company during your absence. You start with no status here, and you’ll have to earn that back. Truth be told, you’ve been a bit of a drain.’

  He said this without emotion as if his humanity gauge wasn’t troubled in the slightest by the words emerging from his mouth.

  Rosie suppressed her panic and tried another tack. This was one relationship that needed to go well if she was to continue to draw her much-needed salary.

  ‘What made you get into HR?’ she asked, trying to sound as cheery and interested as she could. She suspected it was his cold, unfeeling soul that had attracted him to the profession.

  ‘I enjoy working with people…’ Edward began.

  Rosie nearly burst out laughing, assuming it was a joke. She hadn’t done much laughing over the past two years. But Edward Logan was deadly serious.

  ‘I believe that HR is a force for good, improving both company and employee. It allows me to give something back to the world.’

  His face was straight, delivering his words without irony.

  ‘I want to take a photo of you.’

  ‘Now? Why?’

  Edward nodded towards a montage of images to the side of his desk.

  ‘Staff photographs. You’ll need a pass. And I like to look at you all on my wall and imagine you hard at work. I stare at the images as a source of inspiration.’

  That cold shiver was back again. Rosie had never met anybody like him.

  ‘Stand against that plain wall, please,’ he motioned with his hand and picked up the camera. ‘It’ll make a clean background for the image.’

  Rosie did as she was told, finding a clear area between two of the prints on the walls. Edward held up the camera, pointing it towards her, twisting the lens to focus for the shot. He held the camera there for an uncomfortable amount of time, all the time his finger pressing on the button, the sound of the shutter confirming one photograph after another.

  He moved in close, uncomfortably so, and pointed to a mole just above the neckline of her dress.

  ‘You should get that mole checked out,’ he said, touching it.

  Rosie recoiled, baulking with revulsion as if an ugly insect had just landed on her.

  His breath was stale and rancid, as if he couldn’t summon up enough propulsion for it to sustain life. Rosie felt threatened and immediately uncomfortable. She had her back against the wall with nowhere to go — the perfect positioning for the man from HR.

  He moved away, returning the camera to his desk.

  ‘I have sent an induction pack to your email address. You’ll need to call IT to reset your password – your old account is still there. You seemed to spend a lot of time emailing your husband when you were here previously.’

  He didn’t finish the comment; it was just left there, half statement, half challenge.

  Rosie didn’t know how to answer.

  ‘You’ve been looking through my emails?’ was all she could manage. It was a more confrontational reply than she should have given, particularly after having benefited from the company sick pay scheme for much longer than normal. But it didn’t trouble Edward in the slightest.

  ‘Read the terms and conditions on the login screen. Your work emails are company property. As the HR Director, I have the right to read them. And I say you were spending too much time on personal emails during work time. Please cease that behaviour.’

  Rosie felt her face turning bright red. He was right; she and Liam had messaged constantly. She got her work done; it was what everybody did, wasn’t it? She felt a sense of excitement that there would be hundreds of old emails from Liam that she could read through. They would go back as far as when they’d met, perhaps even their first dates. That prospect was tinged with a sense of violation. There had been sexual chat in those emails – had Edward read those messages? She wanted to run out of the office with the shame and embarrassment of it all, but his icy stare held her there, like a rabbit frightened in headlights.

  ‘I should take you to meet the other staff. Follow.’

  Edward moved towards the door. She hated the way he spoke to her, both commanding and undermining.

  The company was divided up into a number of offices. Haylee Madison on the reception desk was always the first to greet a potential customer and place them in the comfortable waiting area. A length of corridor, with doors off to the meeting rooms, the board room and the staff kitchen, led to the office area which was divided into departments. Sales, administration, accounts – that was it. Plus, of course, the newly formed HR department, consisting only of Edward, as far as R
osie could tell.

  ‘Why is the sales office empty?’ Rosie asked as they passed the space where old workmates like Terry Fincham and Phil Herring usually resided.

  ‘Too much time chatting on the phones. Sales personnel should be out in the field, talking to new prospects, not wasting time on chit-chat. I introduced a new system whereby sales staff are not permitted into the office until they can evidence ten personal contacts in a day.’

  Rosie thought back to the laughs she’d had in that office. It was the place where political correctness had gone to die, and Terry Fincham managed to walk that very fine line between being wholly inappropriate yet hilariously funny. She wondered how he was coping with their new HR director.

  The next office was accounts, where Rosie sensed discomfort from Edward Logan.

  ‘That’s where the accounts team are based, but you know that already,’ he said, preparing to do a fly-past.

  A ferocious sounding Glaswegian voice bellowed out from within the room.

  ‘Rosie Taylor!’

  ‘Neil Jennings!’ she replied.

  Despite giving out a visible air of respectability with his grey, well-cropped hair and light grey suit, Neil Jennings had an inner rage and power, like a bomb set on a hairpin trigger. Perhaps he was driven to over-compensate for his lack of height. But with Rosie, he was always charming. Neil moved in and held his arms out.

  ‘Is it still permissible to give a lassie a wee hug?’ he sneered at Edward. ‘I would’na want ta get in trouble with the HR guy!’

  Rosie moved towards Neil; she’d always liked the man, in spite of everybody else being wary of him. Seeing familiar faces made it seem like the last two years had never happened. If only Liam could be waiting at home for her when she returned in the evenings.

  ‘Watch that tosser,’ Neil mumbled in her ear as they embraced, ‘He’s a dangerous wee shite.’

  For the first time since she’d met him, Rosie sensed discomfort in Edward Logan.

  ‘He’s scared of me,’ Neil chuckled. ‘I like to keep the wanker on his toes.’

  Neil gave Rosie a conspiratorial wink, and they pulled away from each other.

  ‘No saliva exchanged and definitely no erection,’ Neil spat out his words at Edward with contempt. ‘If ya’d like me to, I’m happy to fill out a full report?’

  Edward appeared not to know how to react. Neil’s machine-gun delivery placed him on the ropes. At least Edward wasn’t unassailable. That gave Rosie some small comfort. She greeted the accounts team, then followed Edward’s lead to move on.

  Annabelle Reece-Norton headed up the administration office. All the chatter stopped immediately when they entered.

  ‘Hello Annabelle. It’s quiet in here,’ Rosie said, shattering the silence.

  As Annabelle stood up immediately to greet her, the other members of staff began to talk, welcoming Rosie back.

  ‘Get back to your work and stop wasting salaried time on idle chit-chat!’

  Edward hushed the room instantly. Heads went down as the entire office returned to work, like Victorian factory workers following the owner’s commands.

  ‘Let’s speak later,’ Annabelle whispered. ‘I’ll fill you in with what’s going on around here.’

  Edward Logan’s presence had the effect of a malevolent spectre, immediately dulling any spark of life and leaving behind a bitter, resentful room.

  ‘And this is where you’ll be based,’ Edward told her as they walked down the corridor. ‘I don’t subscribe to personal offices, unless a role requires it, such as my own in HR. However, until I rearrange the company structure, you get this office. David told me he’d promised you the corner office before you left on maternity leave. I don’t care about that. I’d rather we stored paperwork in that room when he’s gone. This is your office; I’ll leave you to phone IT and get your computer sorted out. Please make a list of any stationery that you take from the stock room, sign and date it and leave it in my in-tray.’

  He didn’t wait for a response or ask if Rosie had any questions. He simply abandoned her outside her office door. The signage had not been changed, and it still read Filing.

  Rosie opened the door and walked inside. She’d never been inside this room. Previously it had been used by the admin team. She switched on the light. There was no window to provide any natural illumination. A row of filing cabinets lined the far wall, and in the middle was a polished desk which looked like it had just been brought up from the basement. It was old-fashioned but perfectly serviceable. The accompanying office chair appeared to have seen better days, and it was wearing badly at its padded edges.

  Rosie sat down on the chair.

  ‘I can do this. I can do this,’ she repeated in her head.

  Her hand reached to the top drawer and opened it. It was empty.

  She closed it up and reached down for the lower drawer, opening it up.

  That’s when she began to scream.

  Chapter Four

  ‘What is it, Rosie?’

  Annabelle was first on the scene.

  ‘There’s a dead rat in my drawer!’ Rosie screamed, backed up against the filing cabinets, repulsed by what she’d seen.

  ‘Oh no, are you sure it’s dead?’ Annabelle asked, retreating towards the door.

  ‘It’s dead, but it’s not an old one, it looks like it only just died.’

  A dark-haired man walked into the room, followed by a young girl, who appeared to be of school age. Rosie didn’t recognise either of them. The man walked up to the drawer, opened it up and peered inside.

  ‘Damn, that’s some size for a rat,’ he said. ‘It’s dead. It won’t hurt you,’ he said, in a reassuring tone. ‘I’m James – James Bygraves. I’m a temp here. Pleased to meet you.’

  He held out his hand, and Rosie became aware that she’d been cowering in the corner.

  ‘You’re certain it’s dead?’ she asked.

  ‘Definitely.’

  He had a pleasant smile, instantly charming and warm. Rosie shook his hand.

  ‘MacKenzie, how about you get Rosie a coffee while I dispose of the rat?’

  Rosie surmised MacKenzie was the young girl, who now nodded at James and left the room. She was young, with aggressively shaved hair at the sides of her head and dyed long, pink locks flowing from the top. Her nose and lip were pierced, and she had heavy eye make-up and sculpted eyebrows. Rosie wondered who she was. She seemed familiar in some vague way. But she was very young to be working there. Edward had obviously skimped on his office tour.

  ‘Why don’t you take a seat in the meeting room across the corridor? I’ll get rid of this and disinfect the drawer for you.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s really kind of you.’

  Rosie walked over to the meeting room, trying to calm herself. Not only had Edward Logan’s greeting unsettled her and made her feel like she was a temporary presence, but this rat had also shaken her nerves. She was constantly on edge as it was: her hands were shaking, and she was struggling to steady her voice. Rosie fought to hide the signs. She mustn’t give any indication of how close she was to collapsing. This job was vital; she was desperate for the money.

  The quiet of the meeting room was just what she needed. She sat in silence for ten minutes, taking slow, deep breaths and staring out of the window. Her office was the only one in that cluster of rooms which relied on artificial light. It seemed remarkable that it should be designated as her workspace; it had more in common with a solitary confinement cell.

  ‘All clear!’

  James entered the room, his friendly smile apparently a permanent fixture. Rosie noticed he was good-looking in a well-groomed, non-macho kind of way. It was a long time since she’d even noticed a man’s appearance.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve disinfected your desk and washed my hands three times with antiseptic hand wash. I’m clean enough to perform an operation, though I don’t recommend it – I can barely wire a plug. Sorry about that. It’s one hell of a way to come back to work!’r />
  Rosie took his hand and shook it. It was soft to the touch; he’d never done a day’s manual work in his life, that was for sure. Her dad’s hands were calloused and rough after years of physical labour. Liam’s had been like James’; they were a lucky generation of men.

  ‘Who was the girl?’ Rosie asked, intrigued by the beautiful teenager.

  ‘That’s MacKenzie,’ James answered. ‘MacKenzie Devereux. She’s an intern here. Did she ever bring you that coffee?’

  ‘No,’ Rosie replied. ‘Now you mention it, the coffee never arrived.’

  ‘Sorry about that; she gets easily distracted. You know what teenagers are like – attention spans like gnats, glued to their mobile phones. I work in admin, by the way - I’m in between jobs. I saw you earlier, but I don’t think you noticed me?’

  ‘No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t. It’s all pretty overwhelming, to be honest with you. So many faces, and so much to catch up with. I hardly know where to begin.’

  ‘Well, your office is now 100% clear of rats. I’d better get back to work; I don’t want Edward breathing down my neck with his fifteen-minute rule!’

  ‘What’s the fifteen-minute rule?’

  ‘Edward insists on you staying on at work for an extra fifteen minutes if he catches you wasting time. It’s why the office is so quiet when he’s around. Everybody wants to escape the moment the clock strikes five. We’re like a bunch of corporate Cinderellas, all desperate to get away before the chimes of the clock.’

  He laughed at his own quip.

  ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘No joke,’ James said. ‘Beware the reaper’s scythe, Edward Logan is out to get you!’

  He smiled and left the meeting room.

  Every bone in Rosie’s body was telling her that things weren’t right here, but she had no plan for what to do. How could a workplace become so dysfunctional so fast?