by Matt Dunn
'Keep those on,' she said.
'You speak English?' said Calum, then he blushed. 'Sorry, I didn't mean 'Yu - speak English!' as an order. I meant...'
'I know what you meant,' said Yu. 'Don't worry.'
Calum glanced around the room, and noticed a rope running along the ceiling. 'What's that for?' he asked, beginning to get a little concerned.
'I'm going to be walking all over you.'
'No change there,' joked Calum, as he sat cautiously down on the bed.
Yu smiled - as if she'd heard the remark a thousand times before - as she helped him onto his back. 'Okay. I need to flip you over onto your front,' she said. 'This might hurt a little.'
Calum almost laughed. Up close, she was even slighter than he'd first noticed. 'I don't think you'll be able to... Ow!'
'Sorry.'
For the next twenty minutes he lay face-down, staring at the carpet through the hole in the bed where his head was resting, as Yu worked on him, pushing, pulling, massaging, his eyes watering from the pain. After she'd loosened him up a little, Calum felt her step up onto the bed, then she took hold of the rope and climbed gently onto his lower back.
'Are you sure this is safe?'
'Of course,' said Yu. 'I've got the rope to hold on to. And it's not that far for me to fall.'
'For me,' said Calum.
'Just my little joke,' said Yu. 'Like yours earlier. But funny.'
She let out a short, tinkling laugh, then began to walk up and down either side of Calum's spine, kneading and pinching with toes as strong as pliers, while ignoring the series of agonised yelps he couldn't stop himself from emitting. After a further twenty minutes, much to Calum's relief, she climbed off.
'You can get up now.'
'Are you sure?'
'Want me to help you?'
Calum shook his head. He didn't want a repeat of her earlier flipping - not with his back as sore as it was – so he rolled gingerly onto his side.
'That's amazing.'
Yu smiled. 'What can you feel?'
'Absolutely nothing.'
'You're paralysed?'
'No. I mean there's no pain. It's a little tender, but...' Not wanting to tempt fate, he eased himself off the bed and stood up, and when he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror on the far wall, he even looked a little taller. 'It's a miracle.'
'It's Shiatsu.'
'Well, whatever you call it, it was...' Calum struggled for the right adjective. He didn't want to sound like he was referring to sex, but in the end, 'incredible' was all he could come up with. 'Thank you, er, Yu.'
Yu smiled, and bowed slightly. 'You're welcome,' she said.
Calum walked - normally, he was pleased to note - back out of the treatment room, paid the girl on the desk the best forty pounds he'd ever spent, then almost cartwheeled out of the door and back across Shaftesbury Avenue. He was feeling a little light-headed – maybe because of the treatment, but partly, Calum realised, because that had been the most amount of physical contact he'd had with someone of the opposite sex for, well, he couldn't remember how long, and he hadn't embarrassed himself that much, or said anything too inappropriate, or even started sweating uncontrollably.
And as he strolled jauntily back to the office, even though he didn't want to tempt fate, he allowed himself to believe it was a sign that perhaps, finally, his luck was changing.
Chapter 7
Nathan Field averted his eyes as he stepped to one side of the pavement, then he silently let the couple walk past. It wasn't the fact they were holding hands that had unsettled him, or that the girl had reminded him a little of Ellie, but when he'd caught sight of the brown paper IKEA carrier bags they were clutching - today, of all days - it had pierced him through the heart.
As he always did when he spotted the familiar blue-and-yellow logo, he'd felt the insane urge to block the couple's path, rip the bags from their hands, and tell them the idea of peaceful co-habitation these screw-together symbols of perfect coupledom promoted was nothing but a myth. But instead (and again, as he always did), he'd simply stood back and let them go on their way, and then, unable to face going straight back to the office, he'd walked past Bateman Street and up into Soho Square, found a bench away from the buskers, and sat down heavily, resting his head in his hands, telling himself to breathe deeply until his heart stopped hammering, wondering when he'd stop feeling this way about what was just a Swedish furniture store.
Back when they were together, he and Ellie used to go to IKEA almost on a monthly basis. She forever seemed to be on the hunt for another rug, or a set of cocktail glasses, or strange items of furniture with innuendo-laden names, or even those scented candles she'd loved that to him just smelled like cheap air freshener. At the time, Nathan had humoured what he'd labelled her IKEAddiction, assuming she was nest-building. How wrong he'd been. She'd been stocking up for her escape.
He'd been back there once, just after they'd split up. Not through choice, or as part of some therapeutic plan, but he hadn't had much of an alternative, since Ellie had taken half the furniture and most of the kitchen equipment. She always used to tease him he kept the flat so tidy that you could eat your dinner off the floor, and when Nathan had discovered she'd taken the plates too, he'd almost had to. And while he was a fan of the minimalist look, what she'd left him with had been a little too sparse. So he'd braved the trip round the North Circular to Wembley on his Vespa, helped himself to a bright yellow bag and one of the paper tape-measures, tried to ignore the fact that he was the only man in the store who was on his own, and followed the arrows in search of crockery. And it had all been going fine until he'd turned a corner and seen them.
The couple - and he'd never laid eyes on them before - a few years younger than him and Ellie, had been sitting side-by-side on a sofa with a name Nathan couldn't pronounce in the mock-up of the forty-five-square-metre flat, gazing blissfully around the over-furnished room as if they'd just been transported to paradise. From that one snapshot, he could tell they were imagining the rest of their lives together, and how perfect it would be to live like this, as if a relationship was as easy to put together as a room-full of flat-pack furniture. Maybe it was, as long as you had all the pieces and followed the instructions to the letter, but as Nathan knew, there were no instructions, and if the most important piece was missing – love – then things were bound to fall apart.
He'd wanted to walk over and tell them how it really was. Shatter their dreams, by letting them know in no uncertain terms that life wasn't as simple as that. But the looks of hope on their faces - and the delusion they were obviously suffering from - had rooted Nathan to the spot, and almost made him want to cry.
So he'd backed away from them, then dumped his yellow bag in the nearest receptacle and headed out the way he'd come in, a cardinal sin which had caused consternation on the faces of the wave of shoppers headed the other way - surely he knew you had to follow the arrows? But there and then, Nathan had decided to stop following arrows. After all, the one he'd followed that Cupid had fired into his heart had turned out to be pointing in the wrong direction entirely.
Since that day, he'd hated IKEA with a passion. In fact, he'd begun to dislike anything that promoted the idea of off-the-shelf happy-ever-after lives, like rom-com films, or even adverts on the TV featuring 'perfect' families with their two-point-four children and the inevitable dog, because Nathan knew that when the going got tough - as it invariably would - no matter how many Billy book cases you bought, how much stackable storage you owned, how many shelves you put up on a bank holiday Monday, or how many times you watched Matthew McConaughey eventually realise the girl he was competing with for that promotion was in fact the woman he loved, would make a difference. That kind of stuff was worthless and disposable. Much like their relationship had obviously been to Ellie.
But that, he knew, was what Ellie had always been about. PR was all about creating an illusion, and the idea that a few scatter-cushions would make everything OK h
ad certainly fooled him. Though when she'd left, taking most of them with her, there hadn't been enough soft-furnishings left to cushion his fall.
He looked up again, safe in the knowledge that the IKEA couple would be long gone, and sighed. Nathan didn't enjoy feeling bitter. He preferred feeling nothing. And that just wasn't possible today - or at least, not until he got a few drinks inside him later. He checked his watch, surprised to find he'd been gone for an hour, and came to the uncomfortable realisation that Mark had been right. He had to do something about how he felt. And soon.
Hauling himself stiffly up from the bench, he walked back towards the office and into reception, nodding at Mia-Rose as he passed. As he was about to head downstairs, he heard Mark call his name, so he backtracked to his office, and stuck his head through the doorway.
'Yeah?'
'Where have you been?'
'I took Calum for a mass... To sort something out.'
'You've been gone ages!'
'Who're you? My boss?'
'Well, technically, yes. Though not actually technically, if you see what I mean. Anyway...' Mark waved him inside. 'Shut the door,' he said, and as Nathan did as he was told, Mark folded his arms.
'So?'
Nathan frowned. 'So what?'
'Leave it with me, you said. Well, in case you haven't noticed, time's running out.'
'Sorry, mate. Like I said, I got a little caught up with a problem Calum was having.'
'Yes, well, he's not the only one having problems. What am I going to do?'
Nathan thought for a moment. 'Just keep doing what you're doing, I guess.'
'And hope it all comes good later?'
'Why not?' He grinned. 'And anyway, I thought you were going to give me a pep talk?'
'Would you take any notice of what I said if I did?'
'I dunno.' Nathan sighed loudly. 'Probably not.'
Mark shook his head slowly. 'Is it really going to be like this every year? Us traipsing out to whatever Anti-Valentine's event you've organised, only for you to get progressively drunker and more morose as the evening wears on simply because you're scared to make another mistake like you did with Ellie?'
'It's not that easy, you know?' Nathan slumped into the nearest chair, then tapped his chest just over his heart. 'It's like I've got something in here that's left over from her dumping me which is obviously trying to avoid more pain, so it's stopping me from doing anything in case I get hurt.'
'Well...' Mark thought for a moment. 'Look at it from a technical point of view.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'You're the techie. So what would you do if you were having hardware issues?'
Nathan scratched his head. 'Start up in safe mode, so I could progressively check what works and what doesn't. But you can't really do that in relationships. And besides, there's nothing wrong with my hardware.'
Mark raised an eyebrow. 'I'll take your word for that. And if it's down to the software?'
'You make sure the old program's completely removed, then install a different one to see if it's any better,' said Nathan, though he suspected that was a problem in itself. While with a computer, it was easy to perform a factory reset to eradicate any old software, where people were concerned it wasn't quite so straightforward. No matter what he did, he'd always have an imprint of Ellie on his memory. 'But how on earth do I do that in this case?'
Mark shrugged. 'You could start by asking out the next woman you see.'
Nathan opened his mouth to protest, but a knock on the door interrupted them both, then Julie stuck her head into the room.
'Nathan, have you got a minute?'
As Mark pretended to be fascinated by something on his computer screen, Nathan prised himself out of his seat. 'Well, maybe not the next one, eh?' he said to Mark, then he followed Julie obediently through the door.
Calum was leaning back in his chair, gazing out of the window as he half-heartedly listened to his weekly conference call with the US. He was desperate for his usual mid-afternoon coffee, but didn't dare make himself one, worried he'd spill it down his miraculously-still-crisp white shirt. Though given how good his back was feeling after his shiatsu treatment earlier, things seemed to be looking up. Most importantly, the date was definitely back on. Maybe he'd even suggest they went dancing afterwards. He'd impress Emma with his moves, and then, when the slow songs came on...
He became aware of the American voice on the other end of the line - Mike Peters, Seek's US Sales Director - mentioning his name, and Calum snapped out of his daydream. 'Sorry,' he said. 'The line went funny. Could you repeat that?'
'I was just asking you about your prospects, Calum.'
Calum thought for a moment, then he smiled. 'I'd say they're pretty good.'
'Excellent,' said Mike. 'Care to elaborate?'
'Well, I've got one very strong lead I've been working on for the past couple of weeks.'
'And when do you expect to close it?'
Calum smiled again, but a broader one this time. 'Tonight,' he said.
The call finished, and he stayed at his desk, wondering whether he could get away with not moving between now and six o'clock. Just a few short hours were all he had to get through, and what else could possibly go wrong? Nothing, if he didn't get up, or try to drink any potentially shirt-staining drinks, or attempt to contact (or respond to anything from) Emma. No, he'd finish writing the couple of proposals he'd promised to send out by close of play, then he'd have a little freshen-up and a shave before he left, make sure he got to Old Amsterdam in good time in order to get a good table, and... Well, the rest would be up to fate. Or rather, up to Emma.
He swivelled carefully round in his chair, first one way and then the other. His back seemed fine, and he was just considering risking a trip to the toilet when Sophie stuck her head around the door.
'How's it going?'
'Good, thanks.' Calum stood up slowly. 'Considering.'
'Getting nervous?'
He nodded. 'Yup. But in a good way, I think. How about you?'
She shrugged. 'Oh, you know. Julie's got me working on this campaign.'
'Tight deadline?'
Sophie nodded. 'Tonight.'
'Anything I can help you with?'
She shook her head, and then, as if reconsidering his offer, Sophie took a half-step into the room. 'Actually, Calum, there is something.'
'Name it.'
'I need to... Play a joke on someone. Well, two people, actually.'
'April Fool's not for another six weeks.'
'No, it's for tonight. Nathan and Mark have been... Well, what they've been doing isn't important. But what I want you to do is. And requires the utmost discretion.'
'Does it involve any physical activity, or anything... Messy?'
'Um, no.'
'Fine.' Calum grinned. 'Count me in.'
'Great. And remember, it's super top secret.'
'Sounds intriguing.'
'And we'll need a diversion. At around a quarter to four.'
Calum nodded. 'No problem,' he said. As far as diversions went, he knew just the thing.
Julie Marshall strolled as casually as she could into Nathan's room, trying to keep a neutral expression on her face as he sat down behind his desk. She pushed the door shut behind her, then changed her mind, and decided to leave it open a foot or so - she didn't want things turning nasty, and if Nathan had a temper anything like Philip's, she might need to make a quick escape.
She stopped herself, wondering when she'd become so cynical, knowing she shouldn't tar all men with the same brush. She'd just been unlucky with Philip - she had to keep telling herself that, at least - though she'd thought Mark Webster had been different, and look how that had turned out.
As Nathan smiled up at her, she flirted briefly with the possibility of briefly flirting with him – after all, he was very good looking, and if he did have a thing for her, well, she knew she should be flattered. She'd never really studied him up close, and she could certain
ly see what Sophie... Sophie. Julie suddenly remembered why she was here.
'What can I do you for?'
'Well...' Julie wondered whether she should sit down, then decided to remain standing, reminding herself she might need to make a run for it. 'It's a little sensitive, actually.'
Nathan raised an eyebrow. 'Oh yes?'
'Yes. I...' Julie took a deep breath. 'Someone in this office has...' She cleared her throat. 'Sent someone something.'
'An attachment?'
'No, not an attachment. And they've given them something too.'
'A virus?' Nathan looked puzzled. 'I've warned everyone about forwarding those chain emails. Or was it one of those Viagra advertisements? That stuff's not the real thing, you know. Not that I'd expect you to know that.' He laughed. 'Or be buying it, of course.'
'No. Nothing like that. It wasn't an email. And no-one's given anyone else a virus. I mean...' She felt herself colour slightly. 'Someone's actually sent someone a card.'
'An e-card?'
'No, an actual card. A Valentine's card.' Julie couldn't meet Nathan's eyes. 'Today.'
'Which, being Valentine's Day, would be appropriate.'
'Well, yes, of course. And yet, no.'
Nathan leant back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. Was Julie talking about the card he'd received this morning? 'I'm not quite following you.'
'Sorry.' Julie was beginning to wish she had sat down. 'What I'm trying to say, is...' She thought for a moment, wondering exactly what it was she was trying to say, then remembered her earlier surreal conversation with Mark and felt a sense of deja vu. 'That's what I'm trying to say. Well, the opposite, actually. That it wasn't, like you said, appropriate.'
'The card? Or the person who sent it?' Nathan folded his arms. 'Or the person they sent it to?'
Julie scratched her head. 'Well, no, it was a lovely card. And I'm sure the person who sent it is lovely too. But like I said, it was...'