Remember Me?

by Sophie Kinsella

  I turn to the next document. It’s a monthly budget forecast for all the departments in the company. There are six graphs and a Post-it on which someone has scribbled: “Could I get your views, Lexi?”

  “Your coffee…” Clare taps on the door.

  “Ah yes,” I say, summoning a bosslike tone. “Thank you, Clare.” As she puts down the cup I nod at the graphs. “Very interesting. I’ll…formulate my response to them later.”

  The minute she’s gone I drop my head down on the desk in despair. What am I going to do? This job is really hard. I mean…it’s really, really hard.

  How on earth do I do it? How do I know what to say and what decisions to make? There’s yet another knocking at the door and I hastily sit bolt upright, grabbing a bit of paper at random.

  “Everything all right, Lexi?” It’s Byron, holding a bottle of water and a sheaf of papers. He leans against the door frame, his bony wrists protruding from his white shirt. Around one of them is an outsize high-tech watch, which I’m sure cost a lot, but it looks ridiculous.

  “Fine! Great! I thought you were in the budget meeting.”

  “We’ve broken for lunch.”

  He has this sarcastic, drawling way of speaking, as though you’re a total moron. Truth be told, I never got on with Byron. Now his eye is running over the pile of papers on my desk. “Back at it already, I see.”

  “Not really.” I smile, but he doesn’t return it.

  “Have you decided what to do about Tony Dukes? Because Accounts were on to me yesterday.”

  “Well…” I hesitate. “Actually, I don’t quite…I’m not…” I swallow, feeling color sweep through my face. “The thing is, I’ve had amnesia since my accident, and…” I trail off, twisting my fingers into knots.

  Byron’s face suddenly snaps in comprehension. “Jesus,” he says after surveying me for a moment. “You don’t know who Tony Dukes is, do you?”

  Tony Dukes. Tony Dukes. I rack my brain frantically-but nothing.

  “I…um…well…no. But if you could just remind me…”

  Byron ignores me. He comes farther into the room, tapping his water bottle against his palm, his forehead creased in an appraising frown.

  “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You remember absolutely nothing?”

  All my instincts are prickling. He’s like a cat prodding a mouse, working out exactly how weak its prey is…

  He wants my job.

  As soon as it hits me I feel like a total idiot for not having worked that one out before. Of course he does. I leapfrogged over him. He must totally loathe me underneath that polite, pleasant veneer.

  “I don’t remember nothing!” I exclaim quickly, as if the very idea’s ridiculous. “Just…the last three years is a bit of a blank.”

  “The last three years?” Byron throws back his head and laughs incredulously. “I’m sorry, Lexi, but you know as well as I do, in this business three years is a lifetime!”

  “Well, I’ll soon pick it all up again,” I say, trying to sound robust. “And the doctors said I might remember everything at any time.”

  “Or presumably you might not.” He adopts a concerned, sympathetic expression. “That must be a great worry for you, Lexi. That your head will be blank forever.”

  I meet his gaze with as much steel as I can muster. Nice try. But you’re not going to freak me out that easily.

  “I’m sure I’ll be back to normal very soon,” I say briskly. “Back to work, running the department…I was having a great chat with Simon Johnson earlier,” I throw in for good measure.

  “Uh-huh.” He taps the water bottle thoughtfully. “So…what do you want to do about Tony Dukes?”

  Fuck. He’s outmaneuvered me. There’s nothing I can say about Tony Dukes, and he knows it. I shuffle the papers on my desk, playing for time.

  “Maybe…you could make a decision on that?” I say at last.

  “I’d be happy to.” He gives me a patronizing smile. “I’ll take care of everything. You just look after yourself, Lexi. Get yourself better, take as much time as you need. Don’t worry about a thing!”

  “Well…thank you.” I force a pleasant tone. “I appreciate it, Byron.”

  “So!” Dana appears at the door. “Are you two having a nice chat? Catching up with things, Lexi?”

  “Absolutely.” I smile, my teeth gritted. “Byron’s being very helpful.”

  “Anything I can do to help…” He spreads his arms in a self-deprecating gesture. “I’m right here. Memory intact!”

  “Super!” Dana glances at her watch. “Now, Lexi, I have to shoot off to lunch, but I can see you out if we leave now…”

  “Don’t worry, Dana,” I say quickly. “I’ll stay on here a bit longer and read through some paperwork.”

  I’m not leaving this building without talking to Fi. No way.

  “Okey-doke.” She beams. “Well, lovely to see you, Lexi, and let’s talk on the phone about when you want to return properly.” She does the phone-under-chin gesture and I find myself copying it.

  “Talk soon!”

  The two of them walk away, and I hear Byron saying, “Dana, may I have a word? We need to discuss this situation. With the greatest respect to Lexi…”

  My office door shuts and I tiptoe toward it. I open it a chink and poke my head out.

  “…she’s clearly not fit to lead this department…” Byron’s voice is audible as he and Dana turn the corner toward the lifts.

  Bastard. He didn’t even bother waiting until he was out of earshot. I head back into my office, slump down at the desk, and bury my head in my hands. All my euphoria has vanished. I have no idea how I ever got this job. I lift a paper at random from the heap in front of me and stare at it. It’s something about insurance premiums. How do I know all this stuff, anyway? When did I learn it? I feel like I’ve woken up clinging to the top of Mount Everest and I don’t even know what a crampon is.

  Heaving a huge sigh, I put the sheet down. I need to talk to someone. Fi. I lift the phone receiver and dial 352, which is her extension, unless they’ve changed the system.

  “Flooring department, Fiona Roper speaking.”

  “Fi, it’s me!” I say. “Lexi. Listen, can we talk?”

  “Of course,” Fi says in formal tones. “Do you want me to come in and see you now? Or should I make an appointment with Clare?”

  My heart sinks. She sounds so…remote.

  “I just meant we could have a chat! Unless you’re busy…”

  “Actually, I was about to go to lunch.”

  “Well, I’ll come too!” I say eagerly. “Like old times! I could die for a hot chocolate. And does Morellis still do those great paninis?”

  “Lexi…”

  “Fi, I really need to talk to you, okay?” I clutch the phone tighter. “I…I don’t remember anything. And it’s freaking me out a bit. The whole situation.” I try to laugh. “Just hang on, I’ll be out in a moment…”

  I thrust down the receiver and grab a piece of paper. I hesitate, then scrawl, “Please action all these, Byron. Many thanks, Lexi.”

  I know I’m playing right into his hands. But right now all I care about is seeing my friends. Seizing my bag and briefcase, I hurry out of my office, past Clare’s desk, and into the main Flooring department.

  “Hi, Lexi,” says a nearby girl. “Did you want something?”

  “No, it’s okay, thanks, I’m just meeting Fi for lunch…” I trail off. I can’t see Fi anywhere in the office. Or Carolyn. Or Debs.

  The girl looks surprised. “I think they’ve already gone to lunch. You only just missed them, though…”

  “Oh right.” I try to hide my discomfiture. “Thanks. I expect they meant to meet in the lobby.”

  I swivel on my heel, then walk as fast as I can in my spiky shoes along the corridor-just in time to see Debs disappearing into a lift.

  “Wait!” I cry out, breaking into a run. “I’m here! Debs!” But the lift doors are already closing.


  She heard me. I know she did.

  Thoughts are spinning wildly around in my head as I shove open the door to the stairs and clatter down. They knew I was coming. Are they avoiding me? What the fuck has gone on these last three years? We’re friends. Okay, I know I’m boss now…but you can be friends with your boss, can’t you?

  Can’t you?

  I arrive at the ground floor and almost tumble into the foyer. The first thing I see is Carolyn and Debs heading out the main glass doors, with Fi just in front of them.

  “Hi!” I cry out almost desperately. “Wait!” I pelt toward the glass doors and at last catch up with them on the front steps of the building.

  “Oh, hi, Lexi.” Fi gives a tiny snort that I know means she’s trying not to laugh.

  I suppose I do look a bit incongruous, running along red-faced in my black suit and chignon.

  “I thought we were going to have lunch together!” I say, panting. “I told you I was coming!”

  There’s silence. No one is meeting my eyes. Debs is twiddling her long silver pendant; her blond hair is lifting in the breeze. Carolyn has taken off her glasses and is polishing them on her white shirt.

  “What’s going on?” I try to sound relaxed, but I can hear a throb of hurt in my own voice. “Fi, why didn’t you return any of my messages? Is there some kind of…problem?”

  None of them speaks. I can almost see the thought-bubbles traveling between them. But I can’t read the thought-bubbles anymore; I’m out of the loop.

  “You guys.” I attempt a smile. “Please. You have to help me out. I have amnesia. I don’t remember. Did we have a…a row or something?”

  “No.” Fi shrugs.

  “Well, I don’t understand it.” I look around the faces entreatingly. “Last I remember, we were best mates! Going out on a Friday night. We had banana cocktails, Loser Dave stood me up, we did karaoke…remember?”

  Fi exhales sharply and raises her eyebrows at Carolyn. “That was a long time ago.”

  “So, what’s happened since?”

  “Look.” Fi sighs. “Let’s just leave it. You’ve had this accident, you’re ill, we don’t want to upset you.”

  “Yes, let’s just all go and get a sandwich together.” Debs glances at Fi as though to say “Humor her.”

  “Don’t patronize me!” My voice is sharper than I meant. “Forget about the accident! I’m not an invalid. I’m fine. But I need you to tell me the truth.” I look around the group in desperation. “If we didn’t have a row, what’s wrong? What happened?”

  “Lexi, nothing happened.” Fi sounds awkward. “It’s just…we don’t really hang out with you anymore. We’re not mates.”

  “But why not?” My heart is thudding, but I’m trying to stay calm. “Is it because I’m the boss now?”

  “It’s not because you’re the boss. That wouldn’t matter if you were-” Fi breaks off. She shoves her hands in her pockets, not meeting my eye. “If I’m honest, it’s because you’re a bit of a…”

  “What?” I’m looking from face to face in bewilderment. “Tell me!”

  Fi shrugs. “Snotty cow.”

  “Total bitch-boss-from-hell, more like,” mutters Carolyn.

  The air seems to freeze solid in my lungs. Bitch-boss-from-hell? Me?

  “I…I don’t understand,” I stammer at last. “Aren’t I a good boss?”

  “Oh, you’re great.” Carolyn’s voice drips with sarcasm. “You penalize us if we’re late. You time our lunch hours. You do spot checks on our expenses… Oh, it’s a bundle off un in Flooring!”

  My cheeks are throbbing as though she’d hit me.

  “But I would never…That’s not what I’m like-”

  Carolyn cuts me off. “Yeah. It is.”

  “Lexi, you asked.” Fi is rolling her eyes, like she always does when she’s uncomfortable. “That’s why we don’t hang out anymore. You do your thing and we do ours.”

  “I can’t be a bitch,” I manage at last, my voice trembling. “I can’t be. I’m your friend! Lexi! We have fun together, we go out dancing together, we get pissed…” Tears are pricking my eyes. I look around the faces I know so well-yet kind of don’t-trying desperately to spark a chord of recognition. “I’m me! Lexi. Snaggletooth. Remember me?”

  Fi and Carolyn exchange looks.

  “Lexi…” Fi says almost gently. “You’re our boss. We do what you say. But we don’t have lunch. And we don’t go out.” She hefts her bag on her shoulder, then sighs. “Look, come along today if you want to…”

  “No,” I say, stung. “It’s okay, thanks.” And with shaky legs I turn and walk away.

  Chapter 10

  I’m numb with shock.

  All the way home from the office, I sat in my taxi in a kind of trance. Somehow I managed to talk to Gianna about the dinner party arrangements and listen to Mum when she called to complain about her latest run-in with the council. And now it’s early evening and I’m in the bath. But all the time my thoughts have been circulating around and around.

  I’m a bitch-boss-from-hell. My friends all hate me. What the fuck has happened?

  Every time I remember Carolyn’s scathing voice, I flinch. God knows what I’ve done to her-but she obviously has no time for me.

  Have I really turned into a bitch over the last three years? But how? Why?

  The water is growing tepid and at last I heave myself out. I rub myself briskly, trying to energize myself. I can’t keep obsessing about it. It’s already six, and in an hour I have to host a dinner party.

  At least I don’t have to cook. When I arrived home, Gianna was busy in the kitchen with two of her nieces-all singing along to the opera blaring out of the speakers. There were platters of sushi and canapés on every shelf in the fridge and the most amazing smell of roasting meat. I tried to join in-I’m pretty good at garlic bread-but they bustled me away. So I decided I’d be safest in the bath.

  I wrap a fresh towel around myself and pad into the bedroom-then double back into the dressing room for my clothes. Jeez Louise. I know why rich people are so thin: it’s from trekking around their humongous houses the whole time. In my Balham flat I could reach the wardrobe from the bed. And the TV. And the toaster.

  I pick out a little black dress, some little black underwear, and some minuscule black satin shoes. There’s nothing in my 2007 wardrobe that’s big. No cuddly sweaters, no chunky shoes. Everything’s slimline and tailored, to match me.

  As I trail back into the bedroom I let my towel drop onto the floor.

  “Hi, Lexi!”

  “Aargh!” I jump in fright. The big screen at the base of the bed has lit up with a huge image of Eric’s face. I clap my hands over my chest and duck behind a chair.

  I’m naked. And he can see me.

  He’s my husband, I remind myself feverishly. He’s seen it all before-it’s fine.

  It doesn’t feel fine.

  “Eric, can you see me?” I say in a high-pitched, strangled voice.

  “Not right now.” He laughs. “Put the setting to Camera.”

  “Oh! Okay!” I say in relief. “Just give me a sec…”

  I sling on a dressing gown, then quickly start gathering the clothes I’ve dropped about the room. Something I’ve learned pretty quickly is that Eric doesn’t like things lying around on the floor. Or on chairs. Or basically any kind of mess at all. I shove them all under the duvet as quickly as possible, plonk a cushion on top, and smooth it down as best I can.

  “Ready!” I head to the screen and swivel the dial to Camera.

  “Move back,” Eric instructs me, and I back away from the screen. “Now I can see you! So, I’ve got one more meeting, then I’ll be on my way home. Is everything set up for dinner?”

  “I think so!”

  “Excellent.” His huge pixellated mouth spreads in a jerky beam. “And how was work?”

  “It was great!” Somehow I manage a cheerful tone. “I saw Simon Johnson and all my department, and my friends…”

  I tra
il off, suddenly feeling a burn of humiliation. Can I even describe them as friends anymore?

  “Marvelous.” I’m not sure Eric’s even listening. “Now you really should be getting ready. I’ll see you later, darling.”

  “Wait,” I say on impulse. “Eric.”

  This is my husband. I may barely know him-but he knows me. He loves me. If there’s anyone I should confide in about my problems, if anyone can reassure me, it’s him.

  “Fire away.” Eric nods, his screen movements slow and jerky.

  “Today, Fi said…” I can hardly bring myself to say the words. “She said I was a bitch. Is that true?”

  “Of course you’re not a bitch.”

  “Really?” I feel a pang of hope. “So I’m not a horrible bitch-boss-from-hell?”

  “Darling, there’s no way you’re horrible. Or a bitch-boss-from-hell.”

  Eric sounds so sure, I relax in relief. There’ll be an explanation. Maybe some wires have got crossed-there’s been a misunderstanding, it’ll all be fine-

  “I’d say you were…tough,” he adds.

  My relieved smile freezes on my face. Tough? I don’t like the sound of tough.

  “Do you mean tough in a good way?” I try to sound casual. “Like, tough, but still really friendly and nice?”

  “Sweetheart, you’re focused. You’re driven. You drive your department hard. You’re a great boss.” He smiles. “Now, I must go. I’ll see you later.”

  The screen goes dark and I stare at it, totally unreassured. In fact, I’m more alarmed than ever.

  Tough. Isn’t that just another way of saying “bitch-boss-from-hell”?

  ***

  Whatever the truth is, I can’t let all this get to me. I have to keep everything in perspective. It’s an hour later, and my spirits have risen a little. I’ve put on my new diamond necklace. I’ve sprayed myself with lots of expensive scent. And I’ve had a sneaky little glass of wine, which has made everything look a lot better.

  So maybe things aren’t as perfect as I thought. Maybe I’ve fallen out with my friends; maybe Byron is after my job; maybe I don’t have a clue who Tony Dukes is. But I can put it all right. I can learn my job. I can build bridges with Fi and the others. I can google Tony Dukes.