The Time of My Life

  Today Nosy wore a blazer over a black T-shirt, which had a picture of Shakespeare and beneath read Prose before Hos. Sometimes I wondered if she even understood what they meant.

  ‘Good morning, Lucy.’

  ‘Morning, Louise.’ I smiled at her and waited for random question number one of the day.

  ‘Have you ever been to Egypt?’

  I’d been there with Blake. We’d done the whole shebang: ridden camels in the Sahara, sat with the pharaohs, dived in the Red Sea, cruised the Nile. However, Nosy was asking for purely selfish purposes, not so she could float with me in my wonderful memory bubbles. ‘No, sorry,’ I said, and the hope on her face diminished. I went straight to my desk, threw my cappuccino cup in the bin, hung my coat up and headed off to make a fresh coffee. The rest of the team was squished inside the galley kitchen.

  ‘What’s this? A secret meeting?’

  ‘Good morning, princess,’ Graham the Cock greeted me. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll make it.’ I squeezed past him to get to the kettle. He leaned out from the counter a little so I had to rub against his crotch. I considered kneeing him. Graham was the office cock who had watched one too many episodes of Mad Men and was on the lookout for an office affair. Married with children, of course, he slicked back his hair in a greasy quiff in an effort to emulate his Madison Avenue advertising allies and wore so much aftershave you could tell that he’d arrived by the sweet stench that lingered in the air. I didn’t feel one bit complimented by his smarmy advances; I might have, if I’d wanted to spend a night with Pepé Le Pew and if his advances weren’t directed at every woman who so much as walked within a mile of his pong. To give him some credit, he might once upon a time have been attractive if his venture into a lifetime of commitment with the same human being who wanted to share everything with him including his soul, yet who would never understand the real him, hadn’t killed his internal spark.

  I filled the kettle with water.

  ‘Did you hear?’ Mary the Mouse said in her voice that always seemed to be a decibel under a normal speaking tone. Mary’s eyes were almost twice the size of her head, an amazing miracle of nature. Her nose and lips were dots on her face, hence the nickname Mouse.

  ‘Hear what?’

  ‘Now, now, we don’t want to scare Lucy, she’s just walked in the door.’ That was Quentin, named Twitch because of his habit of blinking both eyes twice in twenty-second intervals which increased in meetings or when he was addressing a crowd. He was a nice man, if not a little boring, and I had no problems with him. He did the graphics for the manuals so he and I worked closely together.

  ‘We’re having a meeting in Edna’s office this morning,’ Mouse said, her little face still and her big eyes moving around like a frightened rodent.

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Louise heard it from Brian in Marketing. Everybody’s section is having a meeting.’

  ‘Brian Murphy or Bryan Kelly?’ Steve the Sausage asked.

  Explaining Steve’s nickname was simple. Steve, bless him, looked like a sausage.

  ‘What’s the difference?’ Mouse asked, eyes wide.

  ‘Brian Murphy spells Brian with an i and Bryan Kelly spells Bryan with a y,’ I said, knowing full well that’s not what she meant. I felt Cock’s breath on my neck as he laughed to himself and I was pleased. I was a laughter whore, I’d take it from anyone.

  ‘No, I mean why does it matter who told us?’ she asked timidly.

  ‘Because Brian Murphy is full of shit, and Bryan Kelly isn’t,’ Cock explained.

  ‘I’ve always found both of them to be reputable men,’ Twitch said respectfully.

  Mouse pulled open the door. ‘Louise?’

  Nosy joined us in the already crammed kitchen. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Was it Brian Murphy or Bryan Kelly who told you about the meeting?’

  ‘What does it matter?’

  ‘Because Bryan Kelly is full of shit,’ I said, deliberately mixing it up. Cock smiled again, the only one who noticed.

  ‘And apparently Brian Murphy isn’t,’ Mouse said. ‘So who said it?’

  ‘Which guy is Brian Murphy?’ Nosy asked. ‘Is he the redhead or the one with the bald patch?’

  I rolled my eyes, made my coffee as quickly as possible and pushed my way through the group. ‘Either way it means more cuts, doesn’t it,’ I said to no one in particular. And no one in particular answered. Everyone just stared into the distance and retreated to their minds, thinking about the personal dangers ahead.

  ‘I’m sure everything is going to be fine,’ Twitch said. ‘Let’s not all worry.’

  But they already were, so I returned to my desk to do my crossword and left them all at it.

  Commonplace, lacking originality or wit.

  I looked around.

  Banal.

  When I heard the office door open, I hid the crossword under some paperwork and pretended to concentrate on new manuals as Fish Face tottered by, the smell of leather and perfume following after her. Edna Larson was the boss of our section and looked very much like a fish. Her forehead was high, her hairline started far back on her head, her eyes popped, and her cheekbones were sucked in, emphasised even more by the bronzer she applied to show off their already quite evident height. Fish Face went into her office, and I waited for the Venetian blinds to open. They didn’t. I looked around and noticed that everybody was doing the same. After a while of waiting for the meeting to be called we realised it was business as usual and the rumour had been merely that – which sparked off a small debate about the strength of Bryan Kelly’s word versus that of Brian Murphy.

  We went about our morning. I took a cigarette break on the fire escape so I wouldn’t have to go all the way downstairs to get outside, but even though I didn’t smoke I had to actually smoke because Graham came with me. I turned down both his offers of lunch and dinner, and as though understanding that those two things were far too much commitment for me he came back with a counter-offer, so I then turned down his suggestion of no-strings-attached sex. Then I sat with Twitch for an hour over the new super-duper steam-oven manual that neither of us could afford even if we sent all our own home appliances to a pawnshop. Edna still hadn’t opened her office blinds and Louise hadn’t once taken her eyes off the windows, even when she was on the phone.

  ‘It must be personal,’ Louise said to no one in particular.

  ‘What must be?’

  ‘Edna. She must be having a personal issue.’

  ‘Or else she’s dancing around naked and lip-syncing to “Footloose” on her iPod,’ I suggested, and Graham stared at the windows with hope, planning new offers in his head.

  Louise’s phone rang and her perky phone voice replaced her dull tones but she quickly lost her enthusiasm and we could tell there was something wrong immediately. We all stopped working and stared at her. She hung up slowly, eyes wide and looked at us. ‘Every other department has just finished their meetings. Bryan Kelly is gone.’

  There was a long hushed silence.

  ‘That’s what you get for being full of shit,’ I said quietly.

  Graham was the only one who got the joke. Even though I wouldn’t sleep with him, I appreciated that he still took time to laugh at my jokes and for that, he commanded my respect.

  ‘It’s Brian Murphy that’s full of shit,’ Louise said, frustrated.

  I pursed my lips.

  ‘Who was that on the phone?’ Sausage asked.

  ‘Brian Murphy,’ Louise said.

  That was it, we all couldn’t help but laugh and we were joined together for the first time ever in a moment’s laughter during a horrible awkward time in their lives. I say ‘their’ because I didn’t feel it, I didn’t feel worried or anxious or afraid because I didn’t feel like I had anything to lose. A redundancy package would have been quite nice, and quite the bonus after my last job dismissal. Then Edna’s door finally opened and she looked out with red-rimmed bloodshot eyes. She looked a
round at all of us in what could only be described as a lost apologetic way and for a moment I searched myself to see what I was feeling but the only thing I felt was completely indifferent. She cleared her throat. Then:

  ‘Steve. Can I see you, please?’

  We all looked on in horror as Steve made his way in. There was no more laughter. Watching Steve leave the office afterwards was like watching an ex-boyfriend move out. He packed away his things quietly with tears in his eyes: his photograph of his family, his mini basketball and basketball hoop, his mug that said Steve likes his coffee black with one sugar, and his Tupperware of lasagne that his wife had made him for his lunch. And then after handshakes from Twitch and me, a back pat from Graham, a hug from Mary and a kiss on the cheek from Louise, he was gone. An empty desk just like he had never been there. We worked in silence after that. Edna didn’t open her blinds for the rest of the day and I didn’t take any more cigarette breaks, partly out of respect for Steve but mostly because they were his cigarettes that I used to smoke. Though I wondered how long it would take any of them to think about Steve’s desk and how the lighting was so much better there.

  I left them at lunchtime as I always did, this time to bring my car back to the garage for the second week running. Once there I was handed another letter from Life and I returned to the office in an even worse mood.

  I cursed to high heaven as I sat down and then sprang back up again.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Graham asked, looking amused.

  ‘Who put this here?’ I lifted the envelope and waved it around the room. ‘Who put this on my desk?’

  There was silence. I looked at Louise at reception, she shrugged. ‘We were all in the canteen for lunch, nobody saw, but I got one too. It’s addressed to you.’ She came towards me with the envelope.

  ‘I got one too,’ Mary said, handing it to Louise to pass to me.

  ‘There was one on my desk too,’ Twitch said.

  ‘I was going to give it to you later,’ Graham said suggestively, taking an envelope out of his inside pocket.

  ‘What do they say?’ Louise asked, collecting the envelopes and bringing them to me.

  ‘It’s private.’

  ‘What kind of paper is that? It looks nice.’

  ‘They’re too expensive for invitations,’ I snapped.

  She backed off, uninterested.

  Including the letter I’d found in my apartment this morning, and the letter he’d sent to the garage, he had written to me seven times in one day. I waited until the usual busy work hum had started up before I rang the number on the letter. I expected American Pie to answer. She didn’t. Instead it was Him.

  He didn’t even wait for me to say hello before saying, ‘Have I finally got your attention?

  ‘Yes, you have,’ I said, trying to hold my temper.

  ‘It’s been a week,’ he said. ‘I haven’t heard from you.’

  ‘I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Busy with what?’

  ‘Just doing things, my God, do I have to explain every little detail?’

  He was silent.

  ‘Fine.’ I planned to kill him with my monotony. ‘On Monday I got up and went to work. I brought my car to the garage. I went for dinner with a friend. I went to bed. On Tuesday I went to work, I collected my car, I went home, and I went to bed. On Wednesday I went to work, I went home, I went to bed. On Thursday I went to work, I went to the supermarket, I went home, I went to a funeral and then I went to bed. On Friday I went to work, then I went to my brother’s house and babysat the kids for the weekend. On Sunday I went home. I watched An American in Paris and wondered for the hundredth time if I’m the only person who wants Milo Roberts and Jerry Mulligan to get together? That little French girl just played him like a fool. This morning I woke up and then I came to work. Happy now?’

  ‘How very exciting. Do you think that continuing to live like a robot is actually going to make me go away?’

  ‘I don’t think that I’ve been living like a robot but regardless of what I do, quite obviously you’re not going away. I brought my car to the garage today and Keith the mechanic handed me a letter from you, which he had already opened and in no uncertain terms suggested that sex with him would sort me out. Thank you for that.’

  ‘At least I’m helping you meet men.’

  ‘I don’t need help meeting men.’

  ‘Perhaps in keeping them then.’ That was low and I think even he knew that. ‘So when can we meet again?’

  I sighed. ‘Look, I just don’t think this whole thing is going to work out with you and me. It might be good for other people but not for me. I really like my space, I like to do things without someone breathing down my neck all the time so I think the mature adult thing to do here is for you to go your way and I’ll go mine.’ I was impressed by my tone, by my firmness. Hearing my words, I wanted to separate from me, which weird as that is, was essentially what I was trying to do. I was trying to break up with myself.

  He was silent again.

  ‘It’s not as if every moment together is a bag of laughs either. We don’t even enjoy each other’s company. I mean, really, we should just walk away.’

  He still didn’t speak.

  ‘Hello, are you still there?’

  ‘Just about.’

  ‘I’m not allowed personal calls while at work so I should go now.’

  ‘Do you like baseball, Lucy?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘I don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘Have you ever heard of a curveball?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s what the guys with the ball throw at the guys with the bats.’

  ‘Succinct as always. More specifically, it’s a type of pitch thrown in a way that imparts forward spin to the ball causing it to dive in a downward path.’

  ‘Sounds tricky,’ I humoured him.

  ‘It is. That’s why they do it. It catches the batsman out.’

  ‘That’s okay, Robin always rescues him. I think they’ve a thing going on.’

  ‘You don’t take me seriously.’

  ‘Because you’re talking about an American sport of which I know nothing of and I’m in the middle of my work and I’m seriously concerned about your mental health.’

  ‘I’m going to throw you one,’ he said simply, his voice playful now.

  ‘You’re going to …’ I looked around the room. ‘Are you in here? You’re not allowed play with a ball indoors, you should know that.’

  Silence.

  ‘Hello? Hello?’

  My life had hung up on me.

  Mere moments later Edna’s door opened again. Her eyes were back to normal but she looked tired. ‘Ah Lucy, there you are, could I see you for a moment, please?’

  Mouse’s eyes widened even more. Cock gave me a sad look; nobody left for him to pester.

  ‘Yes, sure.’

  I felt all eyes on me as I went into her office.

  ‘Sit down, there’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I sat in front of her, perched on the edge of the desk.

  ‘Before I start, this came for you.’ She handed me another envelope.

  I rolled my eyes and took it from her.

  ‘My sister got one of those before,’ she said, studying me.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. She left her husband, and she’s living in New York now.’ Her face changed as she talked about her family but she still looked like a fish. ‘He was a bastard. She’s really happy.’

  ‘Good for her. Did she do an interview with a magazine, by any chance?’

  Edna frowned. ‘I don’t think so, why?’

  ‘Never mind.’

  ‘If there’s anything I can do to make you … happier here, then you’ll let me know, won’t you?’

  I frowned. ‘Yes, of course. I’m really fine, Edna, thank you. I think this was just a computer error or something.’

  ‘Right.’ She changed the subject. ‘Well, the reason I called you in is because Augusto Fernández, head
honcho from the German office, is visiting us tomorrow and I was wondering if you would be able to take the lead and introduce him to the gang in here. Maybe we can do our best to make him feel welcome and let him know how hard we’re all working in here.’

  I was confused.

  ‘He doesn’t speak very good English,’ she said.

  ‘Oh. For a minute there I thought you wanted me to sleep with him.’

  It could have gone either way. Instead she threw her head back and laughed heartily. ‘Oh Lucy, you’re the perfect medicine; I needed that, thank you. Now I know you like to do your own thing at lunchtime but I’ll have to ask you to stay in here just in case he drops by. Michael O’Connor is showing him around the building, of course, but when he gets here it would be nice to welcome him to our little group. Tell him what everybody does and how hard we’re all working. You know?’ She was giving me the eye. Please don’t let any of us get fired. I liked that she cared.

  ‘No problem. I get it.’

  ‘How’s everyone doing out there?’

  ‘Like they’ve just lost a friend.’

  Edna sighed and I heard and felt the stress she must have been under. I left the office and they were all gathered around Mouse’s desk, like penguins huddled together for warmth afraid to drop their eggs, all looking at me in anticipation, pale faces worried that I’d been fired.