A Day at the Office

by Matt Dunn

  He sat down gingerly on a nearby chair, consoling himself with the fact that at least sitting didn't hurt too much, so as long as he and Emma stayed seated this evening he might just be okay, but as for anything else, Calum knew he may as well forget it. He found the packet of condoms in his jacket pocket and miserably checked the 'use by' date. While three years seemed a long time, if things continued like this, he might as well ask his mum if she'd kept the receipt.

  With a sigh, he removed the tablets from his shopping bag and popped open the blister pack, then dry-swallowed a couple, wishing as they stuck in his throat he'd paid the extra four pence and bought caplets, then hauled himself up onto his feet, walked slowly out of Boots, and back in the direction of the office. Keep mobile, Debbie had said to him as he'd left the gym, though the only degree of mobility he had right now involved shuffling with his left foot permanently in front of his right one, and he doubted that would help him much. He reached Seek's building and swiped his way inside, glad Mia-Rose was taking a late lunch - he could do without explaining himself - then surveyed the daunting flight of stairs in front of him. As he cautiously lifted his foot onto the first one, Nathan peered up at him from halfway down the basement stairs.

  'What happened to you?'

  'My back's gone.' Calum tried to get his other foot onto the same step, and the effort made him break out in a sweat.

  'Oh no. How bad is it?'

  'On a scale of one to ten? Eleven.'

  Nathan made a sympathetic face. 'Have you taken anything?'

  'About half an hour to get here from Oxford Street.'

  'No, I meant tablets.'

  Calum nodded. Even that hurt. 'Neurofen.'

  'Can you touch your toes?'

  'No,' said Calum. 'Though that's nothing unusual.'

  'What are you going to do?'

  Calum shrugged carefully. 'Hope it gets better, I suppose.'

  Nathan thought for a moment. 'You should get a massage.'

  'Round here?' Calum almost laughed, but didn't dare in case the convulsions sent his back into spasm again. 'I want to get less stiff. Not more.'

  Nathan grinned. 'They're not all that kind of massage parlour. I meant one of those places in Chinatown. They've got to be worth a go.'

  'You think?' Calum glanced carefully at the clock above the reception desk. He should have enough time before this afternoon's conference call. 'Okay.'

  'Great. Just let me go and check nothing urgent has happened work-wise, and I'll take you.'

  As Nathan ran down the stairs to his office, Calum swivelled round on the step, wincing with the effort. The way he was feeling, even a trip to Spank-o-rama would be worth a try.

  As Julie Marshall pulled the door shut behind her, Sophie helped herself to another tissue and dabbed the mascara stains from her eyes, trying to fight off the feeling of loneliness that was washing over her. Why had she given up the safety, security, and - let's face it - adoration of Darren for this? And on top of everything, even he seemed to be deserting her now, given the non-arrival of his usual card this morning.

  She typed her password into her laptop and checked her Hotmail account, hoping he'd perhaps sent her a Valentine's message by email instead, but despite hitting 'refresh' three times, there was nothing from him (or anyone) - in her inbox, or her 'junk' folder, or even in 'deleted items', though how it would have got there without her actually deleting it, she didn't know. A thought occurred to her, so Sophie hurriedly logged in to Facebook. It was the twenty-first century after all - cards were so last year - so perhaps someone had messaged her this way instead. Even a Valentine's 'poke' would be something, but her face fell even further when she saw that, like her inbox, the notifications bar was bare.

  On a whim, she typed Darren's name into the search box - maybe seeing what he was up to would cheer her up - but after she'd found his profile, instead of the reassurance she was hoping for, Sophie found herself unable to believe what she was reading. Why would Darren write something like that - and today of all days?

  She stared at the screen, trying hard to stop the tears from coming again, and wished she hadn't bothered looking. She'd been able to handle it when Darren's relationship status had said 'in a relationship', had even been pleased for him, but... Engaged? And who the hell was Sarah Miller?

  Sophie clicked impatiently on the link, but frustratingly, Sarah Miller's profile was for friends only, so she toyed briefly with the idea of sending her a friend request, hoping she was one of those people for whom amassing friends on Facebook was a sign of social status, rather than simply social network status. Maybe she'd accept the request just to add Sophie to the - what was it? - four hundred and sixty seven friends she had already, then she could snoop all she liked. Check whether she and Darren were having fun. Look at their intimate photos. See snaps of them on holiday. And most importantly, check whether Sarah Miller was prettier - or thinner - than she was.

  Her finger hovered over the 'send' button, then - as if her laptop was about to explode - she propelled herself away from her desk on her wheely chair, wondering why on earth she was still so interested in what Darren was doing now. She'd never wanted him back (although now, she realised miserably, that was pretty academic), and she wanted him to be happy. Though not, it seemed, if it meant her being unhappy.

  Sophie sighed loudly. At least this explained why she hadn't received a card this morning. She stood up and walked over to the door, cracked it open, and peeked out into the corridor. Julie was safely ensconced in the meeting room, but Sophie didn't want to risk her popping back in on the way to break Nathan's heart and catching her making an embarrassing personal call, so she picked up her mobile, grabbed her coat, and (after she'd checked it was smoker-free) made her way out onto the roof terrace. Quickly, before she could lose her nerve, she dialled the once-familiar number.

  'Hello?' said a suspicious voice.

  'Darren?'

  'Who wants him?'

  Sophie grimaced. Five years together, and he didn't even recognise her voice. 'It's me.'

  There was a pause, and then, 'Sophie?'

  'Hiya,' said Sophie, as cheerily as she could muster.

  'Is everything OK?'

  'Of course,' she lied. 'I just thought I'd call you up to wish you happy Valentine's Day. You know, seeing as it's...' She swallowed hard. 'Not appropriate for me to send you a card any more.'

  'Not appropriate because you left me, you mean?'

  'Well,' Sophie took a deep breath. 'Yes. That too. But mainly because...' The words died in her throat, and she swallowed hard.

  'Are you sure everything's OK?' said Darren.

  She sniffed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. 'Why wouldn't it be?'

  'It's just that you sound funny. Where are you?'

  'I'm on the roof.'

  'What roof?' said Darren, anxiously. She heard footsteps, and the sound of a window being opened. 'My roof?'

  'No, silly. My roof. Well, my office roof.'

  'You're not planning to jump, are you?'

  'Jump? Of course not. Why would I...' Sophie stopped talking, and wondered if he could tell she'd seen his news. 'It's actually a roof terrace. For the smokers. I've not climbed out of the attic window or anything. Not that I smoke now. Filthy habit. It's the only place I can get any privacy here. You know, busy busy hectic otherwise...' She stopped herself, wondering why she was so nervous. 'Anyway, I just thought I'd call and congratulate you. On your good news.'

  Darren paused again. 'My good news?'

  'Yes you know...' Sophie forced herself to smile. She'd read if you did that while you were speaking on the phone, it made you sound all upbeat. Even if you were feeling the exact opposite. 'Getting engaged.'

  'How did you know about that?' said Darren, flatly.

  'How did I know?' Sophie was suddenly worried she'd come across as a stalker. 'I, um, saw it on your Facebook status update.'

  'How did you see my status update? We're not 'friends'.'

  Sophie felt h
er stomach lurch. 'Ha ha. That sounds weird, doesn't it? Because, of course, we are, but... No... Well, it's a funny story, really. You know how Facebook sometimes suggests you might like to 'friend' people you may know? Well, I was on there earlier - I don't use it much, to be honest. Too busy at work. You know how it is...' She stopped talking again, conscious she was still babbling. 'Anyway, the funniest thing happened. I just happened to be looking at it in my lunch break. I don't know why. Like I said, I'm always really busy, but I just had a spare five minutes - well, two minutes, really - and strangely enough, it suggested you. What are the chances?' She could hear Darren breathing down the other end of the line, but he wasn't saying anything, and Sophie began to regret calling him. 'Like I said. Isn't that a funny...' It was freezing up on the terrace, and her nose had begun to run, so she sniffed loudly. 'Story.'

  'Hilarious,' said Darren, his tone suggesting otherwise.

  'So I thought to myself, I wonder what old Darren's up to. Not that you're that old, of course, but you know what I mean. So anyway, I clicked on your profile, and then I saw that you'd just got - I mean, you were engaged. To...' Sophie didn't want to appear like she'd been studying his profile too closely. 'Samantha, was it?'

  'Sarah,' said Darren.

  'Sarah. That was it. Not Samantha. Do you even know a Samantha? And if you do, does Sarah know about her? Oops, what am I saying! None of my business any more. Especially now.'

  There was another pause, mainly because Sophie didn't have a clue what to say next, and Darren didn't seem to want to respond. Eventually, he broke the awkward silence.

  'What's that noise?'

  'Noise?'

  'Like a machine gun. Where in London are you, exactly?'

  Sophie realised her teeth were chattering, so she clamped her jaw shut and hopped about from foot to foot in an attempt to keep warm. 'Sorry. It's just a little cold up here. Another reason not to take up smoking. Not that I want to. Like I said, filthy habit.' She suddenly felt awkward, and worried she'd spoken out of turn. After all, she didn't know if Darren's fiancée smoked. 'Well, it's more of an addiction, really. You can't blame people who...'

  'Sophie...'

  'So,' she interrupted. 'Like I said, congratulations.'

  'Thanks.'

  'And so... When's the wedding?'

  She heard Darren clear his throat. 'We haven't set a date yet.'

  'Oh, that's a relief,' said Sophie. 'I mean, not for me. For you. And Samantha, obviously.'

  'Sarah. And why is it a relief?'

  'Because...' Sophie scanned the rooftops, hoping for inspiration, then spotted a woman with a baby through a window across the street. 'Because, obviously, it means she's not pregnant. So you're not marrying her under false pretences. Or having to rush into it.' She stopped talking again, and almost wanted to punch herself at her insensitivity. 'Not that I'm suggesting you would be. Though you're not rushing into it, are you? After...'

  'You and me?' Darren laughed. 'That was two years ago, Sophie. I don't know what the actual time-scale for being on the rebound is, but I'm pretty sure it's not that long.'

  'No. I suppose not. So...' Sophie was trying desperately to be chatty. 'What's she like? What does she do?'

  'Does it really matter?'

  'Well, no. Not to me, of course. You're the one marrying her. Till death do you part, and all that. I just...'

  'She's twenty-eight. She works for the council. You'd like her.'

  'Really,' said Sophie, already feeling the exact opposite. 'Is she... Like me, at all?'

  'What do you think?'

  How would I know? thought Sophie. The cow has set her profile to 'private'. 'I don't know.'

  'Actually, she is, a bit. Apart from one big difference.'

  'Which is?'

  'She wants to spend the rest of her life with me.'

  Sophie felt her legs go weak, and she leant heavily against the railing, doing her best to ignore both its coldness and Darren's icy comment. 'Well, that's just... I mean, it's...'

  'And what about you, Sophie?' said Darren. 'How's London working out for you? All those big dreams you had. The ones that were bigger than Eastbourne. Or at least, bigger than you and me.'

  'It's...' Sophie searched for the right word. 'London's...' She could feel the tears start to build up again. 'I mean, I'm...'

  'Sophie...'

  'Really...'

  'Sophie...'

  '...so pleased for you,' she sobbed.

  'Sophie!'

  'What?'

  'What's wrong?'

  'Wrong? There's nothing wrong. I told you, I'm just a bit cold.'

  'Well, why are you crying?'

  'I'm not crying. I'm sniffing because I'm...'

  'Cold. So you said.' Darren's tone softened slightly. 'Come on, Sophie. I know you.'

  'I'm sorry. I... I am crying. But they're tears of happiness.'

  'Really?'

  'Really.'

  'You sure you're OK?'

  Sophie nodded - a pointless gesture over the phone, she knew. 'The news just... Came as a bit of a shock, that's all.'

  'I'm sorry. But I could hardly call you up and tell you, could I?'

  'No. I suppose not.'

  'Especially not today.'

  Sophie gave another loud sniff, then hoped Darren hadn't heard it. 'I should have guessed when your card didn't arrive this morning.'

  'Subtle of me, eh?'

  'It got the message across.'

  There was a pause, and then Darren sighed. 'Listen, Sophie, I'm at work, so if there's nothing else?'

  'There is.'

  'Well?'

  'I just wanted to say...' Sophie thought of saying 'sorry', but why should she be? By the sounds of things, she'd done him a favour. She fixed a smile on her face again, although the effort it took made her feel faint. 'Be happy, Darren.'

  Sophie could almost hear him smile back. 'You too,' he said. And then he was gone.

  She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, then slipped her mobile back into her pocket, and while she might not have felt a bundle of joy at this precise moment, Sophie realised she was happy for Darren. She'd always felt guilty for leaving him, though that was because she was worried she'd left him with nothing, and she had everything to look forward to - though look how that had turned out. And it wasn't that there was anything wrong with him, there just hadn't been enough right with them, and Sophie had begun to suspect she could do better. She hadn't meant better than Darren. Just better than Darren had been for her. And so, she'd known, could he.

  She gulped down a few more lungfuls of the crisp London air, then leaned over the railing and peeked down. Darren needn't have worried about her jumping - the building was only two stories high, and chances were she'd have landed in one of Spank-o-rama's wheely bins.

  Though maybe that would have been appropriate, she thought, given how rubbish she was currently feeling.

  The usual five-minute journey to Chinatown took Calum a depressingly-slow quarter of an hour, which, combined with the way Nathan had been helping him along the pavement like an old man, wasn't particularly encouraging. As things stood, there was no way he was going to be able to meet Emma this evening, and to be honest, he couldn't even see how he was going to get home. Eventually, they reached Lisle Street, and stopped in front of the first appropriate-looking establishment.

  'What about this place?' said Nathan, pointing at the shop window, where a plastic model of a spine (at least, Calum hoped it was plastic, and hadn't been ripped bodily from some previous client) was arranged in a pleasingly upright way. The poster next to it was offering something called Shiatsu, and Calum frowned.

  'Are you sure?'

  'About what.'

  'That this isn't a vet's.'

  'A vet's?'

  'There are bones in the window.' He pointed at the poster, wincing with the effort. 'And Shiatsu.'

  'What about it?'

  'Isn't that some kind of dog?'

  Nathan laughed, and Calum would have joined in
if it hadn't been so painful. 'What do you think? Does it look okay?'

  With difficulty, Calum turned and peered up and down the street. From what he could tell, there were several identical shops offering similar services, and he didn't want to walk further than was strictly necessary - or rather, he wasn't sure he could. 'I suppose so.'

  'Great.'

  Nathan pushed the door open and ushered him through, and a stern-looking Chinese girl behind the counter looked up from the magazine she was reading.

  'Can I help you?'

  'I hope so,' said Calum.

  'It's his back,' said Nathan. 'Gym injury. And he needs to be fit for tonight.'

  The girl looked Calum up and down. 'I won't ask,' she said. She pressed a buzzer, and an older Chinese lady who looked as if she weighed half as much as Calum emerged from a side door.

  'This is Yu,' said the girl.

  'Me? Great,' said Calum, pleased he wouldn't have to wait.

  'No,' said the girl. 'She is Yu.'

  As Calum forced a smile, Nathan nudged him. 'That's some pretty deep Chinese philosophy,' he whispered.

  Calum ignored him. 'Sorry. Hello, er, Yu,' he said.

  As Yu bowed in acknowledgement, Nathan looked at her, and then at Calum, comparing their relative sizes, then he turned to the girl behind the counter. 'Are you sure she'll...' He chose his next word carefully. 'Manage?'

  'She'll be fine,' said the girl, then she smiled at Calum. 'Have you ever had Shiatsu before?'

  'No,' said Calum nervously. 'Will it hurt?'

  The girl smiled. 'No more than your back does already.'

  'Is that supposed to reassure me?'

  'Do you want me to wait?' said Nathan, looking around for a chair.

  Calum took one look at the woman, then grimaced as his back spasmed again. 'I think I'll be okay,' he wheezed. 'Thanks.'

  'No worries,' said Nathan. 'And good luck.'

  'Thank you.'

  Nathan grinned. 'I was talking to Yu,' he said. 'Not, you know, you. Oh never mind...'

  As Nathan left, Calum slowly followed Yu through the side door, and for a moment, wondered what kind of establishment he'd wandered into. Here he was, in a small room with a bed, and a not unattractive Chinese woman was helping him unbutton his shirt. He removed his glasses, and - relieved he had his best underwear on - started to undo his belt, but Yu held up a hand.