In Office Hours

by Lucy Kellaway

– Fine, he said quickly.

  And Stella, relieved and shocked that she was now saying what she had rehearsed, started to gabble.

  – I mean, obviously, she said, I’m not suggesting that there has been anything between us. Of course there hasn’t. But I just felt that in the last couple of months we have been getting into bad habits, spending too much time talking to each other, and it’s getting in the way of work. I need to think of how things look to other people on the team –

  Rhys was turning to go, but Stella was still talking.

  – and obviously I have come to like you, Rhys, as a person as well as a colleague –

  Gavin Meredith, one of the statisticians from the production division, chose this moment to put his head around Stella’s door.

  – Am I interrupting something? he asked.

  – No! Stella almost shouted. We’ve finished.

  Rhys left the room, and Stella, her mouth a little dry, discussed the latest oil production data with Gavin. She was still holding the CD and the list of songs firmly in her hand.

  I’ve done it, she was thinking.

  – I thought it might be helpful to give you a heads up on the retardation in the futures market, Gavin was saying. I got Sanjay to run some numbers and it’s the biggest it’s ever been. I’ve done some printouts for you.

  Stella felt an urgent need to get Gavin out of her office.

  – Thanks, she said. I’m getting one of my trainees, Beate Schlegel, to do some work on the retardation – I’ll pass the printouts on to her.

  Gavin dispatched, Stella sat down at her desk and stared at the graphs in front of her. In her head she could hear Rhys’s voice saying ‘Fine.’ How dare he say it was fine not to email her any more? Did it mean so little to him that it was really neither here nor there?

  She took the CD and threw it into the bin, but it missed and lay on the floor. Cursing, she picked it up and purposefully put it in. Then she reached in and took it out again, and put it in the bottom drawer of her desk.

  She could not concentrate on the report she was meant to be reading. She thought of sending Rhys a message to say that she was sorry if she had been too severe. Would he see that as kind? Or as too obvious a climb-down? As she was wondering this, she received a message from him.

  I don’t want to bug you or be a nuisance in any way, but that was a bit awkward and there are a couple of things I would like to say. Would you like a quick drink before you go tonight?

  She emailed back:

  No, sorry. I think it is probably better if I get home promptly.

  And then one from him that simply said:

  OK.

  She went back to her report, but now the same line was moving in front of her.

  Brent crude 3 months trading 50 basis points higher …

  Should she go? No, of course not. But what if she just went quickly, just to tell him nicely that she had some feelings for him that were not entirely professional and that therefore it would be better if they did not see one another? This thought made her feel easier. Surely that would be fine? And kind. And, if you thought about it, not unprofessional. She needed to have a proper conversation with him and that would be best done, surely, off office premises, where they wouldn’t be interrupted by Gavin, or by anyone else.

  It made a lot of sense. In fact, more than that, she owed it to him. Surely.

  So she clicked on his last email, hit ‘reply’ and wrote:

  On second thoughts, could manage very quick drink at 6?

  She texted the nanny to say that she was going to be an hour late and instructed her to get dinner going and check Finn’s homework.

  And then turned back to her email. There was a reply from Rhys. It simply said:

  x

  She stared at the message. How could one little ‘x’ mean so much? She kept clicking on it to have another look. He had never put a kiss on his messages to her before. But of course ‘x’ meant nothing. It was what you did when you were twenty-seven.

  Bella

  The following morning Bella woke with a bad head and a feeling of unease. She checked her mobile, but James had not replied to the text she had sent him the previous night. She looked again at what she had written:

  thanks for the drink realy loved it, bella xx

  There were three things wrong with it. The message was babyish; she had spelt ‘really’ wrong, and as for the two needy little kisses – no wonder he hadn’t replied.

  Bella got dressed quickly, tied her hair back in a ponytail and applied no make-up. Happiness was so fragile, she thought. Yesterday she had felt like Maria in West Side Story – pretty, oh so pretty.

  Today she was a drab young woman with no man in her life who had made a fool of herself with her boss.

  When she climbed out into the drizzle at Moorgate her phone was bleeping. There was a little unopened envelope with ‘James’ written next to it. Her heart surged. She opened the message.

  Can you check if Stella is coming to the environmentalists’ lunch today? James

  – Was the appraisal OK last night? Anthea was asking, her voice heavy with concern that Bella knew she did not feel.

  – Yes, said Bella.

  – Well, I’m ever so glad you’re taking it so well. Has anyone told you how much longer you have in ER, and where you’ll go next?

  – I’m staying.

  – Oh!

  Anthea’s face darkened.

  – Not as a PA, Bella explained. He wants me to do a different job. To be a researcher.

  – Researcher? Anthea repeated dumbly. Well, she said. Time will tell.

  Time will tell what? Bella wondered. She thought about the phrase and how silly it was. Time didn’t ever tell anything. Things sometimes happened if you waited long enough but just as often, in her experience, they didn’t.

  She opened her email and there was a message from the head of facilities replying to the one she had sent him about the oil barrel. He informed her that it was not in accordance with health and safety regulations and that it would interfere with ‘the integrity of the reception space’. Bella was sure the first point was not true. She had gone to the trouble of reading the company’s eighty-page health and safety manual, which was full of stuff about not standing on chairs to change light bulbs and instructing staff to hold the handrail as they walked up and down stairs, but there was nothing about obstacles in reception.

  She sighed noisily and Anthea looked up.

  – What’s the matter? she said sharply, as if feeling that now Bella was being promoted she had forfeited her right to complain.

  – Nothing, said Bella.

  She got up and walked down the corridor to see Nathalie, Stella’s PA. She could have sent her an email more easily, but she felt the need to get away from Anthea’s brooding presence.

  Bella found Nathalie sitting outside Stella’s office leafing through Grazia.

  She liked this about Nathalie. She was perfectly efficient at getting things done, but made no effort to look busy when she wasn’t.

  – James wants to know if Stella’s coming to his lunch today, she said.

  – It’s in the diary, said Nathalie. Congratulations, by the way. I hear you’re a researcher now.

  – News travels fast, said Bella. It’s not even official yet.

  – So what will you be doing?

  – I don’t really know. I don’t really think it means anything much, and they aren’t paying me much more. It was just that James was told that he couldn’t have two PAs, and so he’s decided to keep me on but give me a fancy title.

  – You have to watch it with him. He’s a total letch.

  – Is he? said Bella, disliking the edge in Nathalie’s voice. Has he tried it on with you?

  – Well, no, said Nathalie. But he had that thing with your old boss, didn’t he, and I think something’s going on with him and Stella.

  – What? said Bella.

  – Although Stella thinks she’s being really discreet, there are t
hings that I’m picking up on. She’s distracted. She’s looking prettier. At first I couldn’t believe it because she’s so sorted, and she’s got such a great marriage and stuff. But now I’m certain. She’s started wearing lipstick and nipping off to the ladies to put on more mascara. And the other day I saw her wildly deleting messages and she looked up guiltily as I came in. And have you seen that foxy dress she’s wearing today?

  – Well, said Bella, I haven’t noticed James behaving oddly at all.

  – You wouldn’t, said Nathalie authoritatively. The men don’t show so much.

  – How come you are such an expert on all this? Bella asked.

  – I’ve worked in offices for a long time. I’ve seen a lot.

  – Have you ever –?

  Nathalie laughed.

  – Mind your own business!

  – Oh, go on.

  – Well…not since I’ve worked here. But when I was at CR Leisure I shagged some guy after the office party in the shower rooms. I was pissed so I can’t really remember it but I think it was the worst shag of my life.

  They both laughed, causing Stella, who was walking past and into her office, to look at them sharply. They waited until she had gone in and closed the door.

  – See what I mean? said Nathalie.

  – What?

  – Really stressy.

  – That doesn’t prove anything, said Bella. This is her first day in the new job, so she’s allowed to be stressed. And if she was shagging James, wouldn’t she be happy?

  – Happy? Have you seen his fat belly?

  Bella said nothing and Nathalie asked: So who do you fancy?

  – No one, said Bella.

  – Well, obviously, said Nathalie. None of them are fit. But if you had to?

  Bella laughed, awkwardly. To avoid replying to the question, she said: How did you know about James and Julia?

  Nathalie gave her a pitying look.

  – There are no secrets in this place, she said.

  Bella returned to her desk feeling troubled. She was sure Nathalie was wrong, but she needed to know. She went and stood at the door of James’s office and he waved her in.

  – Stella is coming to the lunch, she said, studying his expression carefully.

  – Oh, he said.

  His face did not move.

  And then she said: Facilities say the barrel is against health and safety rules, even though I don’t think it is.

  – Just tell them that the CEO wants it. That will shut them up. And Bella, he went on, still looking at her in the same flat way. There’s something else.

  He started to rummage through the papers in his briefcase, and produced a bag from HMV. He passed it to her as if giving her a sheaf of photocopying.

  – There you are, he said briskly.

  Inside was a CD of Van Morrison’s greatest hits.

  – What’s this for? she said.

  It was a pretty stupid question. But the joy that was racing through her veins had befuddled her mind.

  – For? he echoed. It’s not for anything, except to listen to. I daresay you know the track called ‘Brown Eyed Girl’. It’s one I especially like. I know you think that I can’t see what is under my nose. But it has not escaped my notice that you have brown eyes.

  Part Two – Addiction

  Stella

  When Stella looked back, this was the moment when, if she had behaved differently, all that followed would not have followed, and life would have continued on its proper course. The turning point was that drink. Before the drink she could have stopped; afterwards it was too late.

  So why didn’t she stop before, if she could have? Stella told herself that she had tried; in fact she had only agreed to the drink as a way of stopping things. But she knew this wasn’t true. As she went out to that drink she had been lying to herself about her motives, about her thoughts, and mostly about her heart.

  – Where shall we go? Stella asked.

  – Let’s find somewhere quiet, he said.

  They started walking, not down towards the champagne bars of the City but north, towards Old Street. They walked quickly, some distance apart.

  – Thank you for doing this, he said.

  – That’s all right, she said.

  And then they walked in silence.

  – You know, he said, this feels weird. When you are used to seeing someone in the office, and then you see them outside for a drink, it’s all awkward and you don’t have anything to say to each other.

  Stella laughed. There was something sweet about the way Rhys said the first thing that came into his head. It reminded her of how Finn used to greet any pause in adult conversation by saying ‘embarrassing silence’.

  In fact she had been feeling the same thing herself, but in her case it was more panic than awkwardness. Who is this man – this boy, she had been thinking, and what am I doing with him?

  They came to a desolate pub, quite empty apart from a line of blinking fruit machines sitting on a red-patterned carpet. The air smelt faintly of bleach.

  – I think we’re safe from AE people here, he said. What would you like?

  She said she’d like a small glass of red wine, and then, thinking that the wine would be horrible, said that she’d like a bottle of Beck’s instead. But then she thought maybe she shouldn’t have alcohol at all, but fruit juice instead.

  Eventually she said: What are you having?

  And he said that he was having a glass of red wine, and she said that in that case she would too.

  Stella looked at him from behind as he stood at the bar. His hair came down into a pale point above his collar. She wanted to touch it, just to see what it felt like.

  No, she told herself, she didn’t want to touch it. She wanted to tell him firmly that they must stop all this. She was going to say that she liked him very much, thought him charming and enjoyed his company, but that their relationship was becoming unprofessional, and that she was going to suggest moving him to another department.

  Rhys returned with two large glasses of wine. He raised his glass and chinked hers.

  – Cheers.

  He looked at her, not smiling. She took a sip and winced as the acidic liquid hit the back of her throat.

  – I want to tell you something, she said.

  – But I want to tell you something first.

  Stella nodded, glad to have a few more moments before giving her speech.

  – I want to say that I’ve been a complete twat and a show-off. But something has happened to me in the last three months and I don’t care if I lose my job over it. I have thought about you all the time since that first day when you gave that presentation. You are amazing and beautiful and fascinating and witty and I adore you. This is surreal, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’m not even drunk.

  Stella’s world tipped and swayed. She didn’t look at him. She looked at the carpet, at the orange petals of the rose and noticed how the colour darkened to magenta at the centre.

  – That’s ridiculous, she said. You can’t fall for me. It’s completely absurd. I’m married. I love my husband. I love my children. And they are waiting for me. And this is mad.

  – I know it’s mad, he said. But that doesn’t change it.

  – You don’t mean it anyway, Stella went on. You have a beautiful girlfriend. There are sixteen years’ difference between us in age.

  Rhys said he couldn’t care less how old she was. That he didn’t have a thing about middle-aged women; he had a thing about her.

  Stella fixed her eyes on the wet circle her glass had made on the table. What she felt was not joy but shock. A feeling of the purest terror, that life would never be the same again.

  Rhys leant towards her and put his hand on top of hers. She looked at their hands together. Hers looked dry and wrinkled. His hand was pale and soft and the touch made her stomach go down like in a lift, a sensation so unfamiliar, so intoxicating. Slowly she pulled her hand away.

  – I have to go, she said, getting
up and putting on her coat. They went out into the street stunned and silent. An empty cab wheeled past, and she stuck out her arm.

  – Can I come with you some of the way? he asked.

  – No, she said.

  – Can I hug you?

  – No, she said, but he opened his arms and she leant towards him, and he held her for a few seconds, until she pulled free and got into the cab and drove away.

  Bella

  When Bella had booked the bus to take the External Relations team from the office to Theakstone Lodge, she had not thought she would be on it herself. PAs were excluded from team activities: bonding was not considered part of their job.

  Bella was mainly dreading the course. She didn’t feel like a researcher and was fearful that she would do something that would expose her to the others as an imposter. She was also worried about leaving Millie, who had been almost as reluctant to stay with her grandmother as her grandmother had been to take her. But mostly she was worried about James. The previous morning she had told him that she had been listening to the Van Morrison CD and he had looked at her blankly, as if he had forgotten giving it to her. Since making her a researcher, he had given her almost no work to do, so she spent much of her time pretending to be busy and almost wishing she were still a PA.

  The bus was filling up with colleagues, most of whom were wearing jeans and sweaters, making Bella feel stupid in her new black skirt and jacket. James was last on to the bus and for a moment she thought he was advancing purposefully up the aisle to take a seat by her, but he sat down in the row in front of her, next to his number two in Investor Relations.

  Bella passed the slow journey through south London looking out of the window and listening to James’s conversation.

  – The market has built-in expectations that we’ll smooth the yield, James was saying.

  What the hell does that mean, Bella wondered. When she was a PA she hadn’t cared if she didn’t understand what was happening around her, but now her ignorance was making her anxious.

  James’s mobile was ringing.

  – Hi darling. Well, no, don’t do that if you don’t feel up to it … I’m on the bus, so I’ll call you tonight.

  Bella had come to recognize his different voices. He had his work voice, which was deep and no-nonsense. Then he had the voice that he had used to talk to her when they had had their drink, which, if not exactly soft, was lower. The voice he was using to talk to his wife, Bella thought, was his work voice only slightly quieter. And then there was the voice he used for his sons, which was full of love.