by A. E. Radley
She turned into the main office on the twelfth floor and was disappointed, but not surprised, to see row upon row of empty desks. It was five-thirty, and it seemed that not a single person was interested in staying late to ensure the company’s survival.
She crossed the floor quickly and approached her corner office. A glance at Gemma’s desk confirmed her suspicions that the girl had already left for the day.
Selina rolled her eyes.
She wondered if it was worth doing a time-cost analysis of Gemma’s work. While she was undoubtedly more competent than many of Selina’s past assistants, at least the less capable ones had worked longer hours. Gemma seemed to value time at home with her husband more than her job.
Gemma was smart in some ways but useless in others. Her inability to see the redundancies and belt-tightening around her surprised Selina. Unless, she considered, the foolish girl thought that her boss would protect her from the chop.
Selina snorted to herself. If Gemma thought that, then she was more delusional than Selina first thought.
She entered her office and dropped the folder on her desk. Under her keyboard were a couple of handwritten notes. She deposited one regarding a call back from Jeremy straight in the bin and reviewed another with a message from her sister.
Selina blew out a breath and sat down. Her sister had long since given up trying to contact her directly and had started feeding detailed messages through her assistants. This meant that Selina was rarely able to say she didn’t get a message without making it seem like her office was shoddily run.
She read the note. Apparently one of her nephews was having a birthday party, and she was invited. An involuntary shiver run up her spine. A child’s birthday celebration wasn’t her idea of a fun afternoon. Why she couldn’t just send some money in a card, she didn’t know.
She leaned back and contemplated which of the two it could be, Peter or Phillip. She cursed her sister for giving her boys the same first initial. How was she supposed to tell them apart?
She flipped back through some pages in her desk planner to remember the last time she’d seen them. After a while she found the day of the dinner party. Six months ago.
Selina slumped in her chair. It was probably time she paid her dues and attended the family gathering.
Her laptop screen was cluttered with pop-up reminders, and she could see her email account was yet again out of control. She pulled the laptop closer and instinctively reached for her coffee mug. Of course, it was empty.
She put it back down again and considered her options.
A quick trip to the staff room or a walk to Edge. A look at her watch, and she conducted a quick mental calculation of how late she’d be working. A trip to Edge to get coffee and a salad for dinner was undoubtedly the best option.
Of course, if her assistant was any good at her job she’d still be in the office and Selina would be able to send her to get it. She picked up a pen and snatched up a Post-It note. She jotted down Gemma’s name and then a question mark to remind herself to think about her assistant’s future.
Pregnant or not, she was becoming laxer than Selina could tolerate.
Selina grabbed her phone and purse and headed out of the office.
Invisible
Kate put down her pencil and started to clench and unclench her hand. Once the sun went down behind the office block, the cold really started to set in. She had a few more hours before the shelter opened, and she knew from experience that staying put in her current location was her best bet.
Drawing killed the time, and there was a lot of time to kill. She wasn’t any good at it and didn’t expect to be discovered by some gallery owner, but at least it kept her occupied. The alternative was to sit and stare at passers-by.
She’d discovered very quickly that once you were homeless, you were invisible. There was something about sitting on the street that made you instantly lose your membership to the human race.
The occasional good soul would make eye contact. Sometimes they would smile or nod, but on the whole people would do all they could to avoid you.
It was soul-destroying to find yourself—through no fault of your own—homeless and an outsider.
And so, Kate drew. Scribbles and sketches on scraps of paper that the shelter managed to find for her. Anything to get through the long hours when the shelter was closed during the day.
She heard the sound of heels tapping on the pavement. Glancing up, she saw a businesswoman in a trouser suit marching her way across the car park.
The term ‘all business’ could have been created specifically for her.
Short, grey hair was swept back, away from her face. She was older but not old enough to have naturally greyed to such an extent. Kate guessed it had been dyed at the first sign of aging. It was a clever strategy and made it very difficult to pin an age on some women.
The businesswoman walked with confidence, more a strut than a walk. Kate imagined that the sound of her approach would strike fear into the hearts of her co-workers.
And, of course, she was on her mobile phone, having a loud conversation without a care for anyone else. Not that there was anyone else to hear it, just Kate and the RoboWoman crossing the car park like she owned it.
“Why I have to go there and talk to her snivelling little runts, I don’t know!” the woman was saying loudly. “I don’t even remember which of my two darling nephews is having a birthday. So, I suppose I’ll be expected to look that up. As if I have the time. I didn’t choose to be an aunt. Ghastly business.”
Kate stared at the ground in order to avoid eye contact. She didn’t like to judge people based on their appearance, but it seemed in this case she was spot on.
Kate remembered family birthday parties, especially those with children. The cake, the balloons, the presents wrapped up in colourful paper. It all seemed so far away now, as if it were a memory from a television programme she had once seen rather than recollections of her own life.
She snatched up the pencil and rummaged through her bag for a fresh piece of sketch paper. She found an envelope containing a letter from the council. A smirk curled at her mouth. Another meeting with her social worker. Another day where she was told that she wasn’t in immediate danger and that they therefore wouldn’t be able to offer her any assistance.
She sighed. Technically, they were right. She’d seen the desperate people on the streets who needed help much more than she did. People addicted to drugs, people turning to prostitution.
A shiver ran up her spine.
Things weren’t that bad for her. She had just enough money to survive through her benefits, and the shelter kept her warm and clean during the hours it was open. And, despite the rude businesswomen, the car park wasn’t a bad place to spend her days. It was safe, a lot safer than some of the usual places where homeless people based themselves.
But she hoped one day soon she would finally be moved up the social worker’s priority queue and be allocated some kind of housing.
She was trying not to count, but she knew it was coming up to twelve months of being on the streets.
A whole year of her life wasted.
She sniffed and sat up a little straighter.
No, not wasted, she told herself. Just… different. And this will end. It will.
She started to sketch on the back of the envelope from the council. The figure of a businesswoman with lasers shooting from her eyes came to her quickly.
No matter how bad things were for her, at least she had a heart. She’d remember the names of any nieces or nephews she had. She’d remember their birthdays and buy them gifts they’d appreciate.
She could hear heels on concrete again. Without even looking up, she knew the woman was back, clearly having visited the coffee shop.
Kate kept her head down and added some little people at the feet of the laser-eyed businesswoman she was drawing. They were running for their lives.
“I told them flat out that I don’t care,” the woman sai
d, still on the phone. “Just do what I paid you to do and get out of my line of vision. Tradespeople. Honestly.”
The woman paused for a moment in front of Kate.
Kate held her breath, wondering what was about to happen. At that moment she’d quite like to be invisible.
She looked up at the same moment a takeaway mug from the coffee shop was placed on the ground. The woman didn’t even look at her before she continued walking.
“Well, the kitchen needed to be done. It had been three years. Was I supposed to be looking at stainless steel for the rest of the year? I told them, if that marble sink isn’t installed by Friday, then don’t come back on Monday. And don’t you dare invoice me either.”
Kate stared at the drink. She lifted her head and watched the woman walking away.
How dare she! Kate fumed. She can’t even be bothered to look at me. Or say something. Just… dropping off a drink. To make herself feel better. Make her think that she’s a decent human being when she clearly isn’t.
Kate grabbed the drink and held it up.
“No, thank you,” she called out loudly.
The woman stopped walking. She slowly turned around, a confused look on her face. A paper bag of food and a second takeaway mug were clutched in her free hand.
Kate gestured the cup up towards her, eager for her to return and take it back.
“It’s free,” the woman explained.
“I don’t want it.”
The woman paused for a few moments.
“I’ll have to call you back, Janine,” she said before hanging up her call. She approached and looked down at Kate with barely hidden disdain. “You should probably learn to accept charity, considering your situation.”
“I don’t need to accept charity from someone who can’t remember the names of her nephews and calls them ‘snivelling little runts.’”
“How dare you eavesdrop on my conver—”
“Eavesdrop? You were shouting. And I don’t want your charity. It’s not for me, it’s for you.”
The woman stared at Kate in shock before spinning on her heel and walking away. Kate lowered the cup. She debated whether she should drink it or throw it away. She took a tentative sniff.
Coffee. Probably not poisoned. But who knows?
Deciding there was no sense in wasting the drink, she took a tentative sip. The burst of bitter flavour danced across her mouth. It had been a while since she’d had a good barista-made cup of coffee. Tasteless instant powder at the shelter was all she had these days, with as much sugar as she could stomach to mask the taste and keep hunger at bay.
Maybe it had been rude to not accept the drink at first, but she’d do so again in an instant. Kate may have been homeless, but she was proud that she hadn’t lost her sense of self. She was still Kate Morgan.
When she’d lost everything, she was quick to realise that personal possessions flowed away with considerable ease. But her thoughts, feelings, personality traits, and actions were her own and could never be taken away.
Even if that sometimes meant pride caused her loss. She’d rather not have something than accept a gift from someone she couldn’t stand.
Not Accustomed to Losing
“Come on, you ridiculous old biddy,” Selina mumbled.
She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel of her Porsche as the hundred-year-old woman slowly walked across the road. The lights had changed to green, the sun was rising higher in the sky, but the centenarian wasn’t going to let that hurry her along. Clearly, she didn’t need to get to work.
Selina looked at her wristwatch and let out a sigh. She’d already been delayed by the ambulance on the main road into Parbrook. When the firm made the decision to move to a commuter town outside of London, the theory had been that rent would be cheaper and the surrounding area would be quieter.
Parbrook was certainly cheaper than the central London office they’d had, but the town was a popular residential area with little understanding that busy people had places to be. Selina had also moved her life from a more central location in London to Parbrook. Her commute to work should have been the simplest thing in the world. Except for the local residents and their dawdling.
Selina pressed the palm of her hand into the middle of the steering wheel, and the horn loudly sounded. She intermittently pressed the button, creating a little tune as she sang “hurry up” under her breath.
Finally, the old woman’s big toe crossed onto the pavement. Selina put her foot down and sped away from the crossing.
She shook her head. Today was already shaping up to be a bad day. The kitchen fitter had left her without a working sink and now refused to return her calls. The dry cleaner hadn’t noticed a missing button on her jacket, so a last-minute change of outfit had been in order. And now she was running late.
She turned into the car park behind the office building and stopped the car in the middle of the road.
“You,” she whispered venomously.
She narrowed her eyes and stared at the homeless woman who appeared to be setting up her sleeping bag in the exact location as the day before.
“Don’t get too comfy,” she muttered.
She drove farther into the car park, into her designated space by the back door to the building.
Yesterday afternoon she had been content to let John handle the matter of the woman in the car park, but now she would deal with it herself.
She was still bitter that the ridiculous woman had the gall to refuse a free hot drink, not to mention had eavesdropped on her conversation.
“Rude, that’s what she is,” Selina mumbled to herself. She gathered her belongings and threw them into her bag. “Probably unhinged. Needs to go.”
She looked up as Margaret parked next to her.
“Oh, great.” Selina pretended to rummage through her bag so that she wouldn’t have to walk into the office with the loathsome woman.
Idiots inside the office; rude, ungrateful vagrants outside the office, she thought.
When the barista had messed up her order the night before, and given her both drinks by way of apology, she hadn’t known what to do with the second beverage. Handing it to the homeless woman seemed easier than crossing the street to the public bin. Or carrying it up to the office.
But then it was declined, for reasons Selina couldn’t begin to fathom or care about.
All that mattered was that the woman needed to go. She was cluttering up the car park and making a bad impression on any clients coming to see them. John seemed to think it wouldn’t be an easy task, but Selina was now more determined than ever to get rid of the woman.
“Ungrateful…”
Suddenly, an idea hit her.
Selina was upset by her lack of gratitude, so why not do something that would force the woman to be grateful? A thank you could probably be squeezed out of her with the right application of force.
She picked up her phone and rolled it over in her hand a few times while she considered the matter. It didn’t take long before a scenario formed in her head and she was calling the manager of Edge.
“Edge Coffee Bar, how may I help?”
“Julian, it’s Selina Hale from Addington’s.”
There was a pregnant pause while Julian presumably panicked about a forgotten order, or worse, another renegotiation of their pricing matrix. Edge provided catering to all of Addington’s meetings, and Selina had often sought to cut the budget where necessary. At the end of the day, she signed off on the invoices and Julian knew that. Which meant that Julian owed her a favour.
“O-oh… Hi!” Julian finally found his tongue. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes. One which I already have a marvellous solution to,” Selina said. “When I was in the shop the other day, I noticed a board talking about your work in the community.”
“Yes?”
“Well, good news, Julian. I have an excellent way for you to help the community, as in me, right now.” She gathered her belongings and exited the car. “
In the car park of my building is a delightful woman who has fallen through the cracks of society and is tragically homeless.”
The security guard quickly opened the door for her, and she swept through without even looking at him. She crossed to the lifts and stabbed the call button.
“Obviously, there is a result here that can suit all of us. You can employ her. Well, I say employ. You can charitably allow her to work for you and gain experience. Then she’s no longer out on the street and you have an extra pair of hands. Isn’t that just wonderful all round?”
“H-homeless woman?” Julian stammered.
“Yes, you’ll see her right away. Sleeping bag, blonde hair. She’s a delight. And just think of how good you’ll feel knowing that you saved her from a life of crime and drugs.” Selina stabbed the button a few more times. “I’m in the middle of reviewing our catering options, and it would be so lovely to just leave things the way they are. Easier for you, easier for me. But I have to think about perception. If you say you help in the community, then I need to be sure that you really do, and it isn’t all marketing messaging with no backbone.”
“But… I don’t know who she even is—”
“Then you’ll talk to her, Julian. Honestly, I can’t do everything for you. She’s perfectly lovely. I expect you’ll want to head out there and offer her some kind of apprenticeship or something. Rather soon.”
She hung up the call and stepped into the elevator. She stared longingly at the button for the top floor for a few moments. She even lifted her hand and traced the digits of the thirteenth-floor button, but then she quickly pulled her hand away and stabbed at the twelve instead.
By the time Selina had entered her office a few minutes later, she could see the homeless woman speaking with Julian in the car park below. She waited by the window, watching the encounter. She was too far away to see in any detail, but she was satisfied that her plan had worked when the woman started to gather up her sleeping bag and belongings and followed Julian towards Edge.