The Girl Who Lived Twice

by Tina Clough

  Mia steeled herself not to be intimidated and stood her ground. “No Josh, I can’t! Just have a look at the spreadsheet yourself – it’s obvious that there’s nothing to play around with. I’m even worried that I’ve under-estimated some of the costs – there is no way I can scale any of it down.”

  Josh had recovered his composure now and was coldly furious; his eyes were drilling into hers. “But it’s got to work! It’s a brilliant idea and if I don’t get them to try it now someone else will come up with the same idea very shortly. You’ve got to fix it!”

  She was glad she had not hesitated or given him any hope to bargain with her; now she could just continue to refuse to budge. “No, it’s really that marginal! A tiny percentage of increase on the cost side or low consumer uptake would make it a financial disaster for the client. You have to read the comments in the spreadsheet – it’s all there and there is nothing to be done about it.”

  The argument was going nowhere and she had gone back to her room with a final uncompromising comment. “Well, it’s your project, but Alan will never let it proceed to a proposal to the client. If anyone asked for my opinion, I’d tell them it should be canned.”

  From there things had developed into a complete disaster for Mia, but it had not harmed Josh’s prospects. The project was accepted for presentation to the client, who liked it and work started on the design and creative input right away, closely followed by a brief to an IT company to develop the software and interface for the smart-card.

  Mia was astounded when she heard that it was going ahead, but her frame of mind was more inward than outward focussed and she did not make a big issue of it – it was not her problem, and she knew that the risks would have been thoroughly debated by more experienced people than herself. It was even possible that Alan and Josh had asked for outside advice and made some changes to the cost structure, but she was not interested enough to ask what had changed.

  As Mia found out later a lot of money had been invested in the development phase, advertising space was being negotiated, location finders and photographers contracted, and many hours of agency and contractor time was invested in working on developing the interactive website and the technical side of the promotion. By late October when someone from the client’s side raised the alarm and called for a crisis meeting a huge amount of money had either been spent or was committed for contract work. Mia first heard about a problem when a stressed and worried Alan came to ask if she could come into the meeting room.

  “Sorry to spring this on you, Mia, but things are getting a bit sticky and I hope you’ll be able to shed some light on what’s gone wrong with the proposal.”

  It had been a harrowing session. Even now she felt her shoulders tense and she cringed at the memory of that humiliating day. She had entered a room where the atmosphere was thick with unanswered questions and suppressed anger. She was handed a copy of the proposal Josh had prepared and Alan pointed out the page with the cost projections. She saw straight away that some figures and totals were different and the bottom line looked a lot more optimistic than it should. She flicked to the text; there was no mention of the warnings she had attached to the spreadsheet. A chilly shiver raced down her spine – something was very, very wrong.

  Questions were coming thick and fast, directed primarily at Josh, but also at Mia. The focus was on the projections. Why had nobody crosschecked them, why had nobody realised that some of the costs were not included in the totals? Josh had appeared genuinely puzzled. He said that he had been given the completed spreadsheet by Mia, who had prepared it and the figures looked good, so he went ahead and wrote the proposal paper. He stated with apparent honesty that it was not until that very morning, after speaking to the client’s financial manager on the phone that he had realised that the totals did not include all the expenses. He looked concerned and confused, and he apologised for not checking, but to all appearances he was the innocent victim of someone else’s sloppy work.

  Apprehension had flooded Mia’s mind and she felt sick. If Josh was prepared to lie she had no way of proving she had warned him. The figures were different from her original calculation and only Josh could have changed them. Those new totals at the bottom of the columns; they must have come from somewhere and they were not typing errors. There had been a formula to total each column. At a quick glance it looked as if someone had changed it to exclude the top row of expenses after she handed the spreadsheet file over to Josh. Alan asked her to explain what might have happened. Mia could tell from his voice and face that he had not been informed of the faulty additions before the meeting, but had only known that the client was concerned about the accuracy of some of the data.

  She had felt her throat close up and she knew that her voice had sounded uncertain and without conviction, when she replied. “These aren’t the figures from the spreadsheet I prepared. The viability is much better than it should be. And my notes aren’t referred to in the text of the proposal.”

  Everyone looked at her and mistrust filled the room like a grey fog.

  “I can go and print off the relevant part of the spreadsheet and show you.”

  Alan nodded and she ran back to her office, her mind in turmoil, and her fingers trembled on the keyboard as she located and opened the Excel file. She stared in disbelief – the actual spreadsheet had been changed. Cold sweat was forming on her forehead; she flicked to one of the totals cells and yes, the formula now excluded the expense row at the top of the columns. She quickly went to the View menu and clicked on View Comments, but no comments appeared. Feeling sick to her stomach she got up from her desk, cast a despairing glance at the computer screen and walked slowly back to the meeting room.

  Entering the room again was one of the hardest things she had ever done. She braced herself and walked into a room where every face turned to stare at her. She stood behind the chair she had previously occupied and her voice was tight with tension. “The spreadsheet shows the same totals as the proposal paper. But that’s not what I prepared. It didn’t look like that when I finished with it.”

  Before any of the client’s people could comment Alan took pity on her and told her that there was no need for her to stay, she could leave now. Dismissed and mentally demolished Mia went back to her room. She sat at her desk, wildly trying to think of something that would prove that the file had been tampered with after she finished with it. She checked to see if she had ever emailed the intact file to Josh, but all she found was an email where she told him when it would be completed. She checked her own personal folder, but had no copy of it and she knew she had never printed it out. She was stuck with looking like an incompetent or careless fool and there seemed to be no way to change it.

  Alan had come to see her after the meeting and after speaking to Josh. He had no reason to doubt that Mia had seriously messed up. The project was cancelled, the firm would have to bear the write-off of costs incurred. He himself was puzzled and sad that she had made such an error, but he felt it was all to do with her recent trauma and her distracted mental state, but he also blamed Josh for not checking everything before proceeding with the proposal. Mia didn’t comment or cry. She sat as if turned to stone and listened, said yes and no, but offered no explanation or excuse. Alan was obviously concerned about her and tried to cheer her up a bit, but Mia was glad when he left her alone again.

  Since then her working life in That Time had been a struggle and her confidence was seriously eroded. But in This Time she had a chance to avert the nightmare and she must get it absolutely right, both the facts and the timing. She debated the tactical options with herself: How far to go and how best to stage-manage her actions. She felt relatively confident that she would be able to monitor what was going on and not interfere with fate in any way that was unfair to Josh, having to consider that he might not be about to destroy her this time round.

  She found the spreadsheet on the shared drive and it was still in its original state, showing very marginal viability and complete with h
er cautionary comments. She saved a copy of it on her C:/drive, where it would be safe and “date stamped”. Today she would email it “by mistake” to someone in the company, as further proof of time and date. She just had to decide who the recipient should be and what the excuse would be for sending them something that did not concern them.

  Once that piece of proof was in place she would wait to see if the story unfolded as it had in That Time. Of course there was no guarantee that things would play out in the same way and in her heart she hoped they would not. It would be far better if Josh didn’t use and abuse her, but at least now she was forewarned and ready to defend herself.

  She tilted her chair back and stared unseeing into the middle distance. I’ll check the spread-sheet on the shared document drive every now and then, and I’ll get hold of the proposal once it’s been written and then start the countdown. I’ve got to be sure that he’s not only tampered with the data, but that he’s going to present the false data to the client - then I can unmask him before any harm is done.

  CHAPTER 5

  The evening was clear and it felt nearly like spring. Mia came out of the office and noticed a definite change; the air was softer and warmer. Her spirits rose as she walked down Broadway towards the supermarket, stopping to look in the odd shop window and in no hurry to be on her way home. Spring, she thought, it feels like spring, how lovely!

  At the checkout she hesitated about which queue to choose and an amused voice behind her said, “Hi there, how are you?” Mia turned to find the girl from Designer’s standing behind her with a basket. “I can never decide if it’s better to queue behind six little baskets or two full trolleys?”

  Lorraine smiled “Let’s go for this one – we can pass the time together.”

  When Mia had paid for her purchases she turned to Lorraine and said impulsively: “Which way are you going?”

  “I share a flat with my brother in Ponsonby. I’ll catch a bus just a bit further down the block. Today was my day to finish early, so I came over this way to have a look at the shops. How about you?”

  Mia felt a kind of connection to the tall, black girl. They had shared a mission that had been very personal to Mia, and Lorraine had helped her further by encouraging her to have the make-over with Maylene. “Would you like a drink somewhere, or a cup of coffee? My treat. I am really grateful for all your help the other day and it’s so nice to see you again!”

  “I’d love to - I’m in no hurry. There’s a nice place just across the street, where I’ve been once or twice.”

  A short silence fell when they had seated themselves at a table with glasses of white wine. Then both of them started talking at once. They stopped and laughed and the conversation from there was easy. They exchanged basic information and in response to a question Mia told Lorraine that she was widowed. Lorraine wondered if the change of style mission had something to do with her husband’s death and how long ago he had died. The whole session in the shop had intrigued her. She had wondered on and off since how the evening had gone and how Mia was getting on. “How long is it since your husband died?”

  Mia hesitated, “Two months.” Lorraine’s eyes widened slightly and Mia continued quickly. “I know I seem very composed about it, but somehow I’ve managed to get past the early stage of shock and anger.”

  She hesitated and looked out at the busy street as if searching for the right words. “And that might have something to do with the fact that I knew he was having an affair with my best friend. That obviously influenced my reactions. And since I saw you last I’ve faced her about it – actually just last Friday at a dinner party at my sister’s. I wore my new dress and my new makeup and felt very assertive!”

  Lorraine burst out laughing, and then, horrified, clamped her hand over her mouth. “Oh God, I‘m sorry! I know it’s not funny, but I did wonder what it was you were preparing for that day. Now that I know, I can just picture the scene - I like it! No wonder you were tense! I just knew you were on a mission.”

  She chuckled again and Mia smiled in response and thought how good it felt to have told yet another person and established herself as someone in control of her fate. “Tell me about your name though,” said Lorraine, changing the subject. “Where does Mia come from? I never met a Mia before.”

  “My name is really Maria, but my mother had Swedish ancestry and she called me Mia, which is a Scandinavian short form of Maria. But it’s funny, because it’s an abbreviation of a Maori name too.”

  “Well I think it’s lovely! I thought it might be Italian or something. I have such a prosaic name myself. My mother chose it because she felt it sounded so English.”

  Three quarters of an hour later they exchanged phone numbers and went their separate ways. Mia was cheered - it felt as if something new and fresh had entered her life. The possibility of a new friendship with someone, who had no links to the past, was an unexpected treat. Lorraine would have no reason to see her as anything but how she chose to present herself in This Time. It was like having been given a blank page and a chance to write a new script.

  The following morning she got an email from Callum asking her to join the creative crowd that afternoon for their usual Thursday 4.30 workroom drinks. It was tempting, because she’d only been asked once before and she knew that it wasn’t an open session for all and sundry. But I also want to get home and check my emails. No, no drinks tonight! Maybe they will let me take a rain check. I’ll reply and say I have something already arranged, but that I’d like to come along next week, if that’s OK.

  She sat at her desk with her mind far away, imagining what she would do if someone actually replied to her advertisement. Would she suggest meeting them in a neutral place or should she just talk to them on the phone? What if she got drawn into something she wasn’t prepared for? Let’s face it. The chance of a genuine time-slip victim turning up is so remote that I’ll probably never need to make my mind up about how to deal with it!

  At the end of the day she was racing through a brand recognition survey full of figures and statistics, which Alan wanted to discuss in the morning, when Josh came into her office and perched himself on the corner of her desk. How she detested it when people did that, absolutely a real turn-off! And she realised that he often did this, even going so far as to casually move some of her papers to clear a space. And she had never ever said anything about it. Studying his handsome, friendly face she looked straight into his eyes.

  “Josh, please don’t sit on the desk. It’s rude, Sit on the chair, so I don’t have to look up at you.” Josh obediently moved to sit on her visitor’s chair and looked quizzically at her. “Mia, my girl, you’re changing just a tad! What’s happening out there? Anything you’d like to share with a mate?”

  Mia laughed. “Nothing’s happening, at least not anything worth telling. I’ve just decided that I need to take a grip and be a bit more assertive. Can’t be a nice doormat for the rest of my life.”

  “Quite right, take charge of your fate, eh? And I hear from usually unreliable sources that you’ve dealt to someone who needed a bit of discipline?”

  Good heavens, thought Mia, how genuine and friendly he sounds; I’m glad I know he’s a devious bastard, or I might be taken in.

  “Ah, you must have heard of me confronting Greg’s mistress! I didn’t think Mandy would be able to keep such a titbit to herself for long. Yes, Greg was having an affair with a girl, who used to be my best friend, that’s quite true. It had to be done - I feel a lot better now.”

  Josh’s face expressed genuine admiration. “You really surprise me, Mia! I’d never have thought you had it in you to do a thing like that, and then to be so cool about it, too. Well done - must have been an awesome performance!”

  Mia folded the papers she was still holding and glanced at her watch. “Well, perhaps not quite as exciting as that, but still a good feeling to have it out in the open. It makes up for some of the grief it caused me. Sorry, Josh, I have something I’ve got to finish for Alan before I
go. Did you want me for anything in particular?”

  Josh wavered ever so slightly, his eyes swerved to one side and he hesitated, and then he stood up. “No, not really, just checking on how you are and so on.” He ambled out into the corridor and Mia sat for moment looking at the doorway with narrowed eyes and thinking about the conversation they had just had. This exact chat never happened in That Time, but something very similar did; he used to drift in now and then and ask how I was getting on in a friendly way. The change now is that I asked him not to sit on the desk, and he commented on the gossip about Greg, which of course could only happen because of what I’ve changed in This Time. So nothing essential has changed in our relationship, only things that I myself have said or done. I still have to wait until the proposal’s out to know if everything’s on track to happen as it did.

  The minute she got inside the door that night she turned her computer on and checked for emails, but nothing yet. She changed her clothes and checked the fridge. For the first time in a long time she felt like cooking a proper meal, even though it was only an omelette with diced potatoes and onions.

  There’s something to be said for domesticity, Mia thought. Cooking is satisfying but undemanding and the end result is a nice meal. And you can do some good thinking while your hands are busy. Just as she finished her meal the little ping of an incoming email rang out from the study. She raced to the computer, her heart beating excitedly, read the email and groaned.

  ‘I was thrilled to see your notice in the paper - I too came from a distant planet. I arrived on earth in the form of a luminous pearl, which had floated through space and fell into the open mouth of the young woman, who became my mother. I have waited for someone to contact me. I am so happy that you are here. I know that I am here for a purpose and I am waiting for instructions. Please let’s meet as soon as possible to make plans. Alexander”

  Oh, no! I knew this would happen. It was bound to attract the crystal ball gazers and the rest of the fringe dwellers! I’ll reply politely this once and if he ever writes again I won’t answer. I know I’m living a paradox and trying to rationalise it makes no more sense today than it did yesterday or the day before. What happened to me is a fact, because I feel certain I’m not mad, but Alexander’s surely crazy.