OK. First hurdle over. As I get into the lift, I’m prickling with apprehension, but there’s no one else in it, and I make it to our floor safely.
As I walk along the familiar corridor, I feel a bit surreal. It’s all the same as it was. The same black shiny floor; the same crack in the wall as you pass the men’s; the same distinct smell of coffee and floor cleaner and Fresh ’n Breezy home scent diffusers. (They used to keep sending us freebies, which Sarah would put out. Guess they still do.)
And then there I am, in our office space. It’s just as it ever was, with the distressed-brick wall and white desks and the naked-man coat stand—although there’s a new red coffee machine in the corner, with a stack of Coffeewite sachets on top. I glance over at my desk—but it isn’t there anymore. They’ve moved them all around. There’s no trace that I ever sat there.
The office is pretty empty. There’s no Rosa, no Flora, no Mark, no Liz—and Sarah isn’t at her desk either. Thank God. I timed my arrival carefully for 1:15 P.M., as I know she’s usually at lunch then, but it’s still a major relief.
Hannah is sitting at her desk and looks up as I enter.
“Oh, hi.” She blinks at me through her glasses. “Wow. Cat. How are you?”
“Fine.” I nod. “How are you?”
“Oh, fine, all good…” She looks around. “A lot of people are out at lunch, I’m afraid. You’ve missed them.”
“Not to worry.” I hesitate, then add nonchalantly, “Actually, I just need to pick some stuff up from Demeter’s office. I left it and she held on to it for me.”
“Oh, right.” Hannah nods, totally accepting this story. “Well, I’ll say hi from you, shall I?”
“Yes, do.”
“OK. It must be weird for you, being back here,” she adds, as though the thought has just occurred to her.
“Yes.” I force a smile. “It is.”
It’s more than weird; it’s freaking me out a bit. I’m unnerved by my own reaction. I thought I’d be fine, coming back; I thought I’d got past it. But now, standing here, it’s as if the last few months have concertinaed into nothing, and the hurt is as fresh as ever.
As I survey the empty office, it suddenly hits me: It’s Wednesday. Flora, Rosa, and Sarah will be at their drinks at the Blue Bear. The fun, cool-gang drinks I would have gone to if I’d stayed. It seems like a lifetime ago now.
“So, have you got another job?” Hannah’s voice breaks into my thoughts.
“No.”
“Oh. D’you still live in Catford?”
“No. I had to move home.”
“Oh. Bummer,” says Hannah, looking awkward. “I’m really sorry. I mean, I’m sure you’ll get another job….Have you applied for any?”
This is such an inane question, I think even Hannah realizes it, and she blushes.
“I’ll get my stuff,” I say, letting her off the hook. “Nice to see you.”
As I head into Demeter’s office, I check back, and Hannah is already engrossed in her work again. She’s obviously not remotely curious about what I’m up to, and neither is Jon, who’s sitting way over in the corner. I never really got to know him.
Trying to look natural, I head to the cupboard. This should take thirty seconds, tops. Pile the email printouts into a bag, don’t bother checking them out, just get them and go. I unfold the big laundry bag I brought and place it on the floor. I take out Demeter’s key ring, quietly unlock the door, and swing it open, ready to scoop piles of paper out.
The cupboard’s empty.
For a moment I can’t actually compute what I’m seeing. I had such a strong vision of what I was going to find: piles and piles of messy printouts, in a typical Demeter-ish shambles. Not this.
I shut the cupboard door and open it again, as though I might be able to perform a magic spell. But it’s still clean and white and empty. Then I glance around the rest of Demeter’s office with a looming feeling of dread.
It’s tidy. It’s really tidy. There aren’t any piles of anything, anywhere. What’s happened?
I lean my head out of the door and give Hannah an easy smile. “It’s really tidy in here! What’s happened?”
“Oh, that was Sarah,” says Hannah, still focused on her screen. “You know what she’s like. Demeter went on holiday, so she was like, ‘At last! I can clear out her office!’ ”
“But the cupboard’s empty.” I try to say the words calmly. “That’s where I left my stuff, but it’s all gone.” I’m counting on Hannah not being curious enough to question why I left my stuff in Demeter’s cupboard and, sure enough, she doesn’t.
“Oh.” She pulls a face and shrugs. “Sorry. No idea.”
“So, does Sarah have a key to the cupboard?”
“Er…yes,” says Hannah vaguely. “She must do, because I saw her sorting it out yesterday. She chucked out a huge load of papers.” Hannah looks up and I see her brain finally kicking in. “Oh God. Was that your stuff?”
I stare back dumbly. A huge load of papers. Chucked away. All the emails, all the evidence, gone. My throat is tight; I’m not sure I can breathe. What am I going to tell Demeter?
“Look, I’ll tell Sarah you were here and maybe she can sort it out.”
“It’s OK,” I say hastily. “Don’t bother Sarah.”
“It’s no bother. Or I could speak to Demeter….” Hannah lowers her voice. “Actually, there’s a rumor that Demeter’s getting the chop.”
“Wow.” Somehow I’m managing to speak. “Well, I’ll just have another quick search in Demeter’s office, just in case….”
But after ten minutes, I know. There’s nothing here. No physical scraps of anything. Sarah must have been through it like a whirlwind.
I can’t stay here forever. I have to leave; I have to think….My chest feels compressed by panic as I walk out, down the stairs, out into the open air. A flashing from my phone catches my eye, and I see it’s a new text from Demeter:
How r u getting on? x
I emit a tiny whimper. My legs are moving on autopilot. I’m her only hope right now. I can’t tell her the plan is wrecked. I have to come up with something else. Go to the recycling bin and search? But it all gets taken away on Tuesday night. Get into Sarah’s computer and find some evidence there? But how can I do that in front of Hannah? And how would I guess her password?
Come on, Katie. Think. Think…
And then it hits me. The Blue Bear. Sarah will be there right now. She might say something off guard. If I can just get her to chat, if I can just get her to relax and trust me…
Gathering up all my resolve, I take out my phone and send a text to Demeter:
Going a bit off-piste. x
Not that I have ever skied in my life—how could I afford to ski?—but she’ll get the reference.
Immediately she sends back a reply:
What???
But I thrust my phone away and ignore it. I can’t get into conversation now. I have to concentrate.
—
As I enter the beery, noisy atmosphere of the Blue Bear, I see Rosa and Sarah standing at the bar, and my stomach swoops with nerves.
“Cat?” Sarah notices me at once. “Cat! Oh my God!”
After all my conversations with Demeter, I’d started to imagine Sarah almost as a demon. But of course she’s not. She’s the same pretty Sarah, red hair tied back, blue eyes neatly lined, and white teeth flashing in a broad smile.
“Look, Rosa, it’s Cat!” she’s saying. She holds out her arms wide and so does Rosa, and the next minute we’re all hugging like the oldest of friends.
“How are you?” Sarah keeps saying. “We’ve missed you!”
I feel a bit overwhelmed at their welcome. I thought everyone would have forgotten about me. But here they are, genuinely interested in me and my life, and it’s…well. It’s nice.
Even though Cat feels like an alien word now.
“What are you doing here?” Rosa wants to know, and I shrug carelessly.
“I was in the are
a and I remembered you always have drinks on a Wednesday.”
“You never came to that, did you?” Sarah gives me a sharp look. “But we asked you.”
“So, where are you working now?” Rosa demands, and I feel a trickle of humiliation.
“I’m not. At least, not in branding, not at the moment. I’m actually…I’m working in Somerset, on a farm.”
The aghast expressions on their faces would make me laugh if I didn’t feel so mortified. I hadn’t thought it would affect me so badly: me standing here with no job, while they still luxuriated in theirs. But it’s not a great feeling. In fact, to be honest, if it weren’t for Demeter I’d probably make an excuse right now and leave.
“Cat.” Rosa looks genuinely upset. “That’s terrible. You’re really talented.”
“Which Demeter never noticed,” says Sarah, and squeezes my arm. “Bitch.”
“How is Demeter?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Oh my God, you don’t know.” A flicker of triumph runs over Sarah’s face. “She’s been fired!”
“No!” I clap a hand over my mouth with a gasp—and, actually, I am a bit shocked. Because of course she hasn’t been fired, not properly, not yet. But obviously the story is that she’s gone.
“I know!” Sarah flashes her little white teeth again. “Isn’t it great? Everything’s going to change. Rosa’s going to run the department, like she should have done in the first place.” She puts an arm round Rosa and gives her a hug.
“Well.” Rosa gives a modest shrug. “We don’t know that. I’ll be running it while they decide what to do.”
“And then they’ll give it to you!” insists Sarah. “You should always have got that job. There’ll be a completely different atmosphere in the department. No more bloody drama.”
“So, why was Demeter fired?” I ask warily.
“Try everything.” Sarah rolls her eyes. “You know what she’s like. Finally Adrian was like, OK, I get it. She’s a demented cow. She has to go.”
“Hey.” Rosa has been quiet, thinking hard. “Cat. Did you know that Flora’s leaving?”
“Really?” I say in surprise. “No, I had no idea. We kind of lost touch. Where’s she going?”
“Traveling. She’s leaving in a month. So…” She looks expectantly at me.
“So?”
“So, how do you feel about applying for her job?”
I feel a bolt of disbelief. Apply for Flora’s job?
“Oh yes!” Sarah exclaims in delight. “Perfect idea! What a good thing you walked in here, Cat!”
“It would be a better salary than you had before,” says Rosa. “I know you’re up to it, Cat. I’ve seen your work. And I’ll tell you something: I’m not like Demeter. I want to help people develop. You have a great future, you know that?”
There’s a weird kind of humming in my head. Nothing feels quite real. A job. A better salary. A great future. I mean, if Demeter didn’t get her job back…if Rosa did want me to work for her…I have to give myself the best chance in life, don’t I?
I’m squirming inside. I feel like an octopus tied up in knots, being pulled in different directions.
The barman has placed three glasses and a bottle of champagne on the bar, and Rosa pays for it, then turns to me.
“Come on,” she says. “Have a drink with us. We always go in that little back room. Flora’s there already.”
“We don’t always have champagne on Wednesdays,” adds Sarah, with a twinkle. “But, ding-dong, the witch is dead!”
In my pocket, my phone begins to buzz. It feels as if Demeter is nudging me, and instantly my brain snaps into place with a tweak of guilt. What have I been thinking? There aren’t two options here, there’s only one: Do the right thing. I blink at Sarah and Rosa, trying to get my ideas straight, trying to find a way into the conversation.
“You must have found it so difficult, working for Demeter!” I say to Sarah. “Did you ever feel like…I don’t know…getting revenge in any tiny way?”
Sarah gives me a clear blue look. “What do you mean?”
My stomach flips at her expression. Has she guessed? No. She couldn’t have done. But I need to prove I’m on her side, quick.
“Well, you’ll never believe it…” I try to sound natural and chatty. “But Demeter turned up at my family’s farm on holiday. And I got my own back on her for everything! Look!”
I wince inwardly as I reach for my phone. Demeter would really not be happy if she knew I was sharing a photo of her, all spread-eagled and muddy in the swamp. But, on the other hand, I can’t think of a better way of gaining Sarah’s trust.
“No!” exclaims Sarah as she sees it. “That’s priceless! We have to hear all about it! Will you send that picture to me?”
“Of course I will!” I answer lightly. Never in a million years.
“You’re quite something, Cat!” says Sarah, as Rosa grabs the phone to have a look. “We could have done with your help.” She puts an arm around me and gives me a swift hug.
“Let’s go,” says Rosa, and motions to me to pick up the glasses. “Grab another one of those. Flora will be waiting.”
—
It’s one of those pubs with little rooms and passages and steps everywhere. We head down a shabby corridor painted dark red, with old prints of London views lining the walls. Then at the end Rosa opens a door into a small bare-boarded room with squashy sofas and bookshelves holding old paperbacks.
“Wooo!” Flora greets Rosa with a whoop and a fist pump. “Champagne! About bloody right!”
“And look who we found in the bar?” says Sarah, gesturing at me.
“Cat!” Flora squeals, and zooms over to wrap me in a hug. “I’ve missed you! This is so cool!”
“Ding-dong, the witch is dead!” exclaims Sarah again, popping open the bottle of champagne. “At last!”
“Here’s to that,” says Flora fervently.
“And look what Cat has been getting up to!” Sarah grabs my phone and shows Flora the picture of Demeter in the mud. “You didn’t tell me you’d recruited a country branch of DA!”
“Oh my God.” Flora’s eyes widen, and she bursts into peals of laughter. “Oh my God! Cat, you’re a genius!”
“DA?” I echo lightly. “What’s that?”
“DA,” says Sarah, sounding puzzled. “You know.”
“Cat never knew,” says Flora, handing me a champagne glass.
“You never knew?” Sarah looks astonished. “But Flora said you were in.”
“Of course Cat was in!” says Flora impatiently. “She was totally in. Only I never told her exactly what was going on.” She turns to me. “And then you got the push. That evil cow. Have you been OK? You haven’t replied to my texts!”
“I’ve been fine, really. So…what exactly has been going on? What’s DA?”
I meet Sarah’s eyes and I can see her guard has dropped with me.
“Demeter Anonymous, of course,” she says with a laugh. “We share our terrible Demeter stories and help one another.”
“What did you think we were doing every Wednesday?” Flora gulps her champagne. “Honestly, we’ve needed this; otherwise we’d go insane.”
“The worst time was when she made Sarah cook those gross Chinese herbs.” Rosa screws up her nose. “D’you remember? The smell. I think that was before your time, Cat.”
“No!” Flora bats the air, her mouth full of champagne, then swallows and turns to me. “Dyeing the roots!”
“Oh my God, the roots.” Sarah claps a hand over her mouth.
“The roots!” Rosa explodes. “I’d forgotten about the roots. Cat, you win! Worst Demeter story ever.” She clinks her glass against mine and I grin back as widely as I can, even though my mind is working frenetically. While Rosa is refreshing glasses, I take out my phone as though to check for texts, press RECORD, and slip the phone back into my pocket.
“So what happened?” I say innocently. “How did Demeter get herself fired?”
All
three of them exchange conspiratorial, triumphant looks.
“Go on,” says Flora to Sarah. “Tell her. Sarah’s brilliant,” she adds to me. “She got Demeter fired.” Flora clinks her glass against Sarah’s. “Sarah’s the star.”
“It was all of us,” rejoins Sarah modestly. “It was teamwork. And it’s been a long time coming. Hasn’t it, Rosa?”
“Too long,” says Rosa wryly.
“Wow!” I open my eyes wide. “But how on earth could you…I mean, what happened? I think I heard about some muddle with Allersons….”
“Sarah’s so clever,” says Flora proudly. “She sent Demeter all this wrong information so she wouldn’t pursue the project. And then she made sure the Allersons people never got to speak to Demeter on the phone; otherwise it would have come out. See? Brilliant.”
“I sent them the wrong mobile number.” Sarah gives me an angelic smile. “And I always answer Demeter’s phone in the office, so. It was easy.”
“But the way you juggled all the emails,” says Rosa. “I still don’t know how you did that.”
“Oh, Demeter’s such a technological shambles,” says Sarah. “It’s pathetically easy to fool her.” There’s such a contemptuous flick to her voice that I’m quite shocked.
“Sending The Email to Forest Food, though,” says Flora. “That was genius.”
“Well, it was in her drafts folder,” says Sarah, with a wicked little grin. “I just helped it along.”
“D’you remember that, Cat?” Flora turns to me. “The Email?”
“Just about!” I force a grin back. “So what actually happened?”
“Well, Demeter typed out this furious email—you know, letting off steam—and put it in ‘Drafts.’ So Sarah went to her computer and pressed SEND.” Flora collapses into giggles. “It took, like, ten seconds. Demeter never even questioned whether she’d sent it or not.”
“Always know what’s in your boss’s drafts folder,” says Sarah, with that one-cornered smile I remember.
I try to smile back—but I’m remembering Demeter’s face at the time of The Email. Her white, panicky desperation. And here they all are, assuming that she doesn’t have any feelings at all, toasting her misery in champagne.
My Not So Perfect Life Page 32