by Tanith Morse
I didn’t say anything. Smoothing down my dress, I took a seat in the chair opposite and looked down at my nails. He was making annoying little slurping sounds with his tea.
‘Do you mind if I take my shoes off?’
‘Be my guest.’
He kicked off his battered loafers to reveal a pair of holey red socks.
I winced. His feet absolutely stank.
I closed my eyes, tried hard to think of something, anything that could take my mind off the terrible odour. I looked up at him. There was a hint of amusement in his face, like he could sense my discomfort.
‘You wouldn’t happen to have a custard cream by any chance, would you?’
I gritted my teeth. Now he was really taking liberties. And anyway, wasn’t he supposed to be ‘cutting down on the sweet stuff?’
I brought him back a packet of Maryland cookies.
‘Thanks. I’m sorry; I don’t even know your name, do I? I’m David Powell.’
‘Maddy.’
‘Is that short for Madeline?’
‘Yes.’
‘So what do you do?’
I paused before answering: ‘I work for the council.’ That always sounded far grander than saying I worked in a call centre.
He smacked his lips together, like he was relishing the taste of the biscuit in his mouth. Crumbs stuck to his moustache and chin. Something about this really irritated me.
‘What do you do?’ I asked.
‘I’m a freelance photographer.’ He looked pointedly at the portfolio lying on the floor.
‘Oh, you take pictures. Of what?’
‘Buildings, people, anything really. Whatever assignment the newspaper gives me.’
‘Wow, that sounds exciting. Which newspaper do you work for?’
‘Different ones. I move around a lot. That’s what I love about freelancing. I can be spontaneous. It never gets boring.’
‘I wish I could do something like that. If must be fun working for yourself.’
‘It is. Would you like to see some of my photos?’
‘Sure.’
I had really surprised myself. I wasn’t normally this talkative around strangers, but something about David’s shambolic persona put me at my ease. Had he been handsome, I might have clammed up, might have gone all timid. But I felt no physical attraction to him whatsoever. I could be totally candid with this badly dressed man with wonky teeth and smelly feet.
He passed me the portfolio. It was bound in black leather and felt very expensive. I opened it and flipped through numerous glossy, high-resolution prints of famous London landmarks: St Paul’s Cathedral, the Gherkin, the London Eye.
They were good. Very good. I was impressed.
‘You’ve got all the sights here, haven’t you? Big Ben, Trafalgar
Square . . . ’
‘London Bridge.’
I squinted at the photo. ‘That’s Tower Bridge isn’t it?’
‘Er yes, sorry, my mistake. You’re quite right. Tower Bridge.’
‘They’re amazing,’ I said, handing the portfolio back to him.
‘I also do people,’ he winked. ‘Maybe one day I’ll show you some of my portraits.’
Great, I thought sarcastically. So was this to become a regular thing - him just popping round to see me? How could I possibly put up with another episode of smelly feet? When he had gone I decided that this would be the first and last time David Powell would have the pleasure of my company.
* * *
‘So what do you think this meeting’s about?’ Margery asked, drumming her fingers on the table.
Caroline stifled a yawn. ‘I don’t know. We’ve probably all got the sack.’
It was Wednesday afternoon, and we’d all been called into a meeting with the new Head of Service, Angela Towner.
‘Has anyone seen this Angela what’s-her-name?’ Margery inquired. ‘I bet she’s a right bitch. I saw her downstairs at reception and she gave me a dirty look. Silly cow. Does anyone know where she came from?’
‘I heard she used to work for Reading,’ Caroline replied. ‘I don’t know much else about her. These managers are all the same though, aren’t they? Same shit, different day. Fat pay cheques and fat all to do. They bloody do my head in.’
I leaned back in my seat, folded my arms. As always, I stayed well out of the conversation. I wasn’t into office politics. Better to keep your mouth shut than live to regret it later.
‘Meow!’ Rodney hissed. ‘You lickle gals are so bitchy, mon. Give de poor ting a chance. You haven’t even met her yet. She might surprise you.’
Rodney was Jamaican and liked to pluck his eyebrows. He had a wife and kids back in Kingston, but since he’d moved to London, he’d spent most of his time cruising Soho’s gay bars. He was great fun though, a larger than life character.
The door opened, and William and Angela strolled in. William looked like he was constipated. Angela smiled pleasantly. She was a heavy-set woman in her fifties with closely cropped grey hair. Her bosoms were enormous, like she’d stuffed two pillows up her cardigan. I decided there was something of the wildebeest about her.
‘Hello guys, I’d like to introduce you to Angela Towner. She’s our interim Head of Service. We are extremely privileged to have her with us, so I hope you’ll all make her feel welcome.’
‘Thank you, William,’ Angela gushed. She rambled on for five minutes about what she hoped to bring to the department before her voice took on a more serious tone. ‘I know there has been much talk of cuts, and I’d be lying to you if I said this wasn’t true. There has been and will be more job losses in the future.’ Angela paused for dramatic effect. ‘Yes, there will be cuts. But I can assure you that those members of staff who are hardworking, conscientious and punctual will have nothing to fear. I will do my utmost to ensure that all of your jobs are secure, but we have to work together. We have to prove that this department is worth saving.’
‘Hold on a minute, haven’t you just contradicted yourself?’
Everyone turned and looked at Margery. I bit my lip. Oh God, now she was in for it.
‘Excuse me?’ Angela frowned. ‘How have I contradicted myself?’
‘Well,’ Margery said authoritatively, ‘you say that there will be definite job losses, but then in the next breath, you say that all of our jobs are safe. Which one is it? I want to know what’s really going on here.’
I cringed. Margery was the sort of person who revelled in winding up management to see what she could get away with. Every other week she was in the midst of some grievance, the majority of her time spent in clandestine meetings with her union rep. She always had to be the outspoken one, the champion of the people. This was fine, as long as she understood that from now on, in Angela Towner’s eyes, she was a marked woman.
Angela exchanged knowing glances with William. Then, clearing her throat, she walked up to Margery’s desk and fixed her with a steely glare.
‘To whom am I speaking?’
‘Margery Blake.’
‘Well Margery, let me assure you - I am not here to make enemies. I am not here to swing the axe on Parking Services. I am here to make sure that we are all as productive as possible. And that will include rewarding those who work the hardest – the people whose jobs will be secure. Does that answer your question?’
Margery nodded, clearly shocked by how direct and totally unflinching in her response Angela had been. She had finally met her match.
Angela’s face glowed with benevolence as she turned to face the rest of us. ‘I have an announcement to make. There’s a new job opportunity arising in Parking Services; a management position that I feel would suit someone in this room. I hope that you will all apply. I will be looking for someone with a Customer Services background, and this will be a great opportunity for one of you to develop your skills. The job description goes out this Friday so keep your eyes peeled.’
She then made her excuses and left. We were now alone with William. He glanced at his watch. �
�Well guys, time’s up. Let’s go back to the floor.’
Margery groaned.
‘Dat job sounds interesting,’ Rodney remarked loudly, ‘I might apply.’
‘Yeah,’ Caroline agreed, ‘I might do too. What’s there to lose?’
This got me thinking. I had never been one to pursue management opportunities because I had always seen my role in the call centre as a means to an end and nothing more. Now, seven years on, I could certainly do with a better-paid job, so what was stopping me from going for it? Besides, I had as good as chance as anyone, didn’t I? By the time the global email from Angela arrived the next day, I had already made up my mind to apply.
Chapter Four
‘Are you sitting down?’ Beth’s voice was riddled with emotion. ‘I think Phil’s having an affair.’
‘What?’ I almost spat out my coffee.
‘I can’t go on like this, Maddy. I feel like I’m having a breakdown.’
‘How do you know he’s having an affair?’
‘Lots of things. I just know, that’s all. Everything’s a mess. I really need you, Mads. Can I come over?’
‘Of course you can. I’m here for you no matter what. But please, try not to get too hysterical.’
‘Okay. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’ She hung up.
I looked up at the kitchen ceiling. Wow. What a revelation. The idea of poor, downtrodden Phil having an affair was dubious to say the least. He’d always appeared to adore my sister, lavishing her with gifts and pandering to her every whim without complaint. If anyone had asked me who out of the two of them was more likely to cheat, I’d have said Beth every time. On more than one occasion, I’d witnessed her flirting shamelessly with other men in front of him, but he’d always turned a blind eye.
I drained my coffee cup, tossing it in the sink.
No, Phillip couldn’t possibly be having an affair, I decided. It just wasn’t in his nature. But then, if I put myself in his shoes, I could see how Beth was probably hell to live with. Perhaps her greedy demands and incessant chattering had pushed him to breaking point. Perhaps he’d sought solace in the arms of a less complicated, less grasping woman who would listen to his problems. If that was the case, then my sister only had herself to blame. Phil was a good husband and a doting father. Men like him were hard to find.
Beth got to my flat about half six. Despite speaking on the phone every single week, it had been almost three months since we’d actually seen each other. I was shocked by her appearance. She had lost about a stone in weight, and had the pale, drawn face of a hunted woman. This immediately triggered alarm bells. How long had these marriage problems been going on for? Every time we’d spoke, she’d always indicated that life couldn’t be better: the sun shone out of Phil’s arse and pretty Vicky was the reincarnation of Baby Jesus. Now it was painfully clear that my sister had been less than candid with me.
She gave me a rueful look. ‘I know what you’re thinking, and before you say anything, I just want to say that I didn’t want to worry you. That’s the only reason why I didn’t tell you about this before.’
I didn’t answer. I took her coat, hung it up. Then, I made us both a cup of tea, which we took into the living room. She sat down and ran her fingers through her shiny brown hair.
‘So what happened?’ I asked. ‘Why do you think Phil’s having an affair?’
‘I started to suspect something was up on Valentine’s Day. Normally, we go to that lovely restaurant off Old Compton, but this year, Phil said he wanted a quiet one at home. He didn’t get me a present either, only a card, which I think speaks volumes about how he values our relationship, don’t you?’ She looked at me for approval.
‘Go on,’ I said calmly. ‘What else?’
She spread her hands. ‘He’s just not very loving towards me anymore. He shouts; he gets irritable. He never used to be like that. Then there’s this thing with his receptionist. She keeps calling the house to speak to him. If he’s not in, she acts like her world has crumbled.’
‘Have you ever met her?’
‘No, but Phil tells me she’s young and pretty.’
I arched an eyebrow. ‘Phil actually told you that, did he?’
‘Well, not in so many words, but that’s the impression I get.’
‘Have you told Phil about your suspicions?’
‘No, no, of course not. He’s too bogged down with work. There never seems to be a right time, you know? And anyway, he’d probably deny it.’
I sipped my tea thoughtfully. ‘So let me get this straight - you think that Phil is cheating on you because he didn’t take you to a restaurant and you’ve had a couple of phone calls from a girl at work. Doesn’t exactly amount to an affair, does it?’
‘I knew you’d trivialise this. I just knew you would! That’s why I didn’t want to tell you in the first place.’
‘I’m not trivialising it. I’m just saying that it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s having an affair. There could be a perfectly innocent explanation.’
‘What about the receipt?’
‘What receipt?’
‘The receipt from Selfridges I found in his briefcase.’
‘You didn’t tell me about that.’
‘Well, now I have. There was a perfume receipt for Anais Anais, which he knows I hate, in his briefcase. That proves he must have bought it for someone else. It proves he’s cheating!’
‘No, it doesn’t. Perhaps it was for his mum, or his sister. Maybe if you tried asking him first, instead of jumping to wild conclusions, you could save yourself a lot of hassle.’
Beth turned on me with fiery eyes. ‘I knew it would be pointless talking to you. How could I possibly expect you to understand what it’s like to be married? How could you possibly understand what I’m going through? You’ve never had a man, Maddy, so you don’t understand a woman’s intuition.’ She paused, checked herself. Her voice softened, and she rested her hands in mine. ‘Look Mads, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was out of order and I didn’t mean it.’
‘It’s fine. You’re right. What do I know? I’m only trying to save your marriage.’ I pulled her towards me, cradled her in my arms. ‘I just don’t want you to make the biggest mistake of your life, darling. Phil’s a great guy, and I want you to think carefully before doing anything irrational. Try talking to him. You owe it to yourself. You owe it to Vicky.’
She nodded silently.
‘You don’t know how much I envy you, how much I wish I had the life you’ve got.’
Beth lifted her tear-stained face. ‘Do you really?’
‘Of course! And so does everyone else. You’ve got what everyone wants, a beautiful child and a man who loves you.’
She smiled graciously.
I was pleased. Having appealed to her vanity, I had managed to convince her to give Phil the benefit of the doubt. Deep down, however, I wasn’t so convinced of his innocence. But I wasn’t about to tell her that. No, I had to help to preserve her fairytale, to make her believe that there were still knights in shining armour, and she had bagged the best of them.
Suddenly the doorbell rang.
‘Are you expecting someone?’ Beth asked.
I shook my head.
It rang again.
‘Well, are you going to answer it or what?’
‘Er no . . . I don’t know. I think it might be that weird guy from next door. If it is, then I’m not opening it.’
‘What weird guy? You didn’t tell me you had a new neighbour.’
‘I’ve only met him once. But God, it was enough. His feet absolutely stink!’
Beth shrieked with laughter. ‘I like the sound of him already. He could be just the tonic for my depression.’
‘No, trust me, this guy’s a right weirdo. He wears these crazy jackets.’
Beth was already in the hallway.
‘No, don’t!’ I hissed.
Too late.
‘Hello, is Madeline at home?’
> ‘Why yes. Who shall I say is calling?’
‘David Powell from next door.’
I gritted my teeth.
Beth’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she showed him into the living room.
‘Mads, David’s here to see you.’
I moulded my face into the appropriate smile. ‘What a surprise. What brings you here?’
‘I just thought I’d say hi. I also wanted to thank you for having me round the other day.’ He brought out a cheap bottle of wine and handed it to me.
‘Aww, isn’t that nice of him, Maddy? Isn’t he a sweetheart?’
‘Yes it’s lovely. Thank you, David. But really, you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.’
‘No trouble at all,’ he murmured. My cheeks burned under the intensity of his gaze. I could have killed Beth.
There was an awkward pause. David’s attire was even more ghastly than the last time we had met. He wore a monstrous purple jacket, wide on the shoulders, narrow at the waist, and a pair of brown corduroy trousers that tapered at the ends. Shocking.
He rubbed his hands together. ‘So, I take it the two of you are . . .?’
‘Sisters,’ we said in unison.
‘Ah, I should have guessed. You do look alike.’
‘That’s what everyone says,’ Beth laughed. ‘Which of us do you think is older?’
David scratched his chin thoughtfully. I noticed that there was a little hole in his jacket sleeve. ‘Let me see, let me see . . . it’s impossible to tell. You both look so young and fragrant.’
She smiled indulgently at him. Way too friendly for my liking.
‘So, what are you ladies up to now?’ he asked.
Beth looked at me. ‘Nothing. Why?’
‘I was thinking of going for a drink at the George. Could I have the pleasure of your company?’
‘Well, I - ’
‘Sounds lovely!’ Beth cut in. ‘Just give us a sec to freshen up.’
‘Splendid! I’ll see you soon.’
‘What the hell were you thinking?’ I shouted after he’d gone.
‘I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss, Mads. I think he’s really sweet. And anyway, there’s something kind of enticing about those funny crocodile shoes of his.’