by Simon Bourke
It worked perfectly. They were a great team. Malcolm enjoyed liaising with the staff. He demanded their respect, but also encouraged the kind of banter necessary to keep morale high in an office environment. When the time came to charm new partners, he was always on hand to show them round, present the business at its best and, if required, wine and dine them at a local restaurant. He called it ‘HR mixed with PR’. Business wasn’t quite booming, but it was certainly flourishing. Best of all, he actually enjoyed his work. Most of the time it didn’t even feel like work.
He and Dennis often joked about how things would go if they swapped roles for a week or two. They both agreed it would go only one way: right down the pan. Malcolm did his utmost to ensure he spent the bare minimum of time behind his desk. He didn’t even like staying in his own office for more than a few minutes at a time. No, he preferred to be on the move, where he was at his best. Dennis, for his part, would happily have remained ensconced in his quarters from the moment he arrived in the morning until his departure in the evening. He often admitted to Malcolm that the workers terrified him. He’d never imagined himself as a manager or a boss-man, and on the rare occasion that someone came to him with a query, he hastily passed them on to Malcolm. The women scared Dennis most because their office, like most offices, was a matriarchal society. Not that this bothered Malcolm; he knew how to deal with female staff. He was naturally flirtatious, and although he wasn’t particularly attracted to any of the staff, he still enjoyed the back and forth between them. It enlivened his working day.
So, when he got a call from the employment centre, offering him the services of a young hopeful on two months’ work experience, he was more than happy to add her to the team. She’d work for nothing, and it’d be good to have some young blood about the place. It might even put a few noses out of joint, which would be amusing. According to her CV she had some accountancy skills and although they already had three people in their accounts department, he agreed to add her to the team – he was generous like that. He made sure he was there to meet her at the main entrance on her first morning; their office could be a scary place for even the most hard-nosed newcomer. Her name was Katie Pendleton. She was twenty-four, slim, brunette and attractive. And, although he didn’t like to admit it, she beguiled Malcolm right from the start.
4
He got her settled in, introduced her to her new colleagues and made sure she had enough work to keep her busy, promising to check in with her later that day. And he did. He checked in with her just before morning break, twice before lunch, three more times in the afternoon and again as they were finishing up, in case she needed someone to walk her out. The next morning he went to her desk before he’d even had his morning cuppa and they exchanged some harmless chit-chat, again just to help her settle in. They had lunch together on her third day. That was no big deal. Yes, he almost always had his lunch with Dennis at a separate table. But this girl was new, and he had to make sure she was okay.
By the end of her third week he was directing all accounting queries through her. By the start of her fourth he’d arranged a weekly meeting, just the two of them, so they could discuss privately any issues that might have arisen. She was the work experience girl, this was what you did; it would have reflected badly on them if he hadn’t looked after her. Perhaps, with his help, she could get a full-time accountancy job when she’d finished with them. It was a noble gesture on his part and on behalf of the company. When the office gossips started to talk he told her to ignore them, they were jealous because she was doing such a great job. Anyway, he was married and she had a boyfriend; nothing was going to happen. They were just friends who liked spending time together, as all friends did. He was happily married, for Christ’s sake. He hadn’t always been married, though. In fact, in his younger days, he had been quite the lad; out on the town every Saturday night with his mates, chasing skirt, living the life of a single man, ending most nights with a kiss, a phone number and sometimes even more. Oh, he’d sowed his wild oats, all right, but everything had changed when he met that delicate young woman with the shy little smile which brought to mind a small child reluctantly accepting a fifty-pence piece from an elderly neighbour. She had a naive innocence about her, a sense of wonder rare among women her age. He was instantly attracted to her, and even more so when he glimpsed the no-nonsense attitude so at odds with the rest of her personality. Yes, you can buy me a drink, but don’t think it means anything. He’d loved that, the way she’d sternly accepted the rum and coke and gestured to him to keep talking. This was a girl who believed in being courted, and he was just the man to do it.
By the end of the night, he found himself accompanying her home – only to her door, not a step further. They briefly kissed and she disappeared inside. That was that, as far as Malcolm was concerned. He had met the love of his life. She was the one for him. More dates followed, and a year later Margaret Moore became Margaret Philliskirk. They bought their first house and settled down for a life of wedded bliss. And now, twenty years later, he loved her more than he ever had. Not that he needed to remind himself of that; after all, he was only flirting.
*
As Katie’s two-month stay drew to a close, Malcolm began to panic. They needed her; their accounts department was far too small. He told Dennis as much. Dennis, in his usual way, just waved submissively and told him to do whatever he thought best. So he did. He chose to ignore the young graduate who’d recently applied for a position within the company, who had a degree in accountancy from Manchester University and had so impressed at his interview the previous week. Katie would be offered a permanent position as a junior accountant. It was settled. He could hardly wait to tell her, but he’d wait until she was alone before doing so. No need to make a big scene. It would just be the two of them. He’d break the news and officially welcome her to Philliskirk & Barnes. She’d be thrilled; it wasn’t easy finding work in the current climate.
One afternoon when most of the workers were away at lunch, he seized his opportunity.
“Hi, Katie,” he said, sitting on the desk.
“Oh, hi, Malcolm,” she smiled, all doe-eyed, like Bambi.
“Aren’t you taking lunch today?”
“I had it at my desk,” she said, indicating a half-eaten sandwich.
“Our Katie, such a hard worker,” he teased.
She smiled demurely.
“I’ve got some good news,” he said, hardly able to contain himself.
“Yes?”
“It’s about your role here.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve discussed it with Dennis, and we’d like to offer you a full-time position as a junior accountant.”
The squeals of delight and words of gratitude were music to Malcolm’s ears. She was happy, and he liked to see her happy. More than that, they needed her. A terrific acquisition, that’s what she was.
5
One morning, a couple of months after Katie had been made permanent, Malcolm set out for work an hour earlier than usual. He’d told Margaret he had some important calls to make, vital stuff that needed to be sorted as soon as possible. It was only half the truth; he did have some calls to make, but they weren’t that important. He was really going in early because he knew Katie would be there early too. Not that he’d admit this, even to himself. If she did happen to be there, and there was no guarantee she would be (even though she was always first in), then maybe they could go to the canteen, just the two of them. That’d be nice; they could catch up. They hardly ever spoke these days.
Making his way through the early-morning traffic, Malcolm hummed along to the music on the radio. He was in a good mood. There was nothing untoward in what he was doing. They were just friends who got on well; he was her mentor. Deep down, though, he knew why he was coming to work early. He couldn’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach or the sordid fantasies he conjured up as he lay in bed at night. He wanted this girl, and
despite his love for his wife he was willing to risk everything to have her. Those were the cold, hard facts. Even now, as he got closer and closer to the office, he could have prevented it. He could have stopped the car, gone into a café and waited until he was sure she wouldn’t be alone. That would have been the sensible thing to do, the thing that a happily-married man would have done; but he didn’t do it. Instead he turned up the radio, leaned on the accelerator and thought of topics they could discuss over coffee.
He drove into the car park at a little after eight. Sure enough, the blue Micra was there in its usual spot. She’d probably been here since cockcrow: so dedicated, so assiduous, they were really blessed to have her. He bounded up the stairs and into the main office space, looking over to the little cubbyhole which housed their accountancy team. It was empty, as was the entire office. He flicked on the lights and strolled around their little enterprise, poking his head inside each cubicle in case she was in there. But there was no-one here. Malcolm frowned in annoyance. Where could she be? He couldn’t wait to tell her about what had happened on the way in, about the van driver flicking him the V-sign; she’d love that one. The canteen! That had to be it. He hurried back down the stairs and into the canteen, which served their company as well as two others in the industrial park. Apart from a couple of sleepy factory workers and a lone member of the kitchen staff, it was deserted. Now he was really flummoxed and more than a little disappointed. The rest of the staff would be in soon, and then there would be no chance of a chat with her. He sloped back up the stairs and into the office again; her seat remained empty. He stood there, pondering her whereabouts. She must be in the ladies’ room. The sensible thing would have been to wait; she wouldn’t be gone long, and there’d still be plenty of time for a chat. He wasn’t thinking sensibly, though.
Once more he left the office, but this time he went straight on until he reached the end of the corridor. The ladies’ room was the first door on the right. He looked around to make sure no one was watching and then gently put his head to the door, but he couldn’t hear anything. She had to be in there. He was vaguely aware that what he was doing was a gross invasion of privacy, but he pushed those thoughts away and continued to listen. And then he heard it, faintly at first, but growing more pronounced, a gentle mewling, coming from inside. It was Katie, and by the sound of things she was rather upset. He listened a moment longer, oblivious now to the danger of being caught outside the women’s toilets with his head at the door. The sobbing was constant and plaintive. It broke his heart to think of poor Katie in there all alone, sad and in need of comfort. He tapped the door gently.
“Katie, is that you? Is everything okay?”
The crying stopped abruptly.
He remained still, listening intently. What if he’d frightened her and made things worse?
“Malcolm?” a voice said hesitantly.
“Yes, Katie, it’s me. Are you all right?”
He heard footsteps as she walked towards the door and he rapidly pulled away from it. She appeared before him, a picture of vulnerability, all smeared make-up and tears.
“Oh, Katie, whatever’s the matter?” he said, taking her by the arm.
She tried to speak but nothing came out, nothing decipherable at least. The tears resumed in earnest, accompanied by sobs and ragged, helpless breathing.
“You poor thing,” he said, leading her back to the office. They went through the main doors and into Malcolm’s private office. He closed the door behind them.
“Sit down, love,” he instructed, steering her into a chair. “Will you have a cuppa?”
He picked up the pot of tea left by the catering staff.
“Two sugars, isn’t it?”
She nodded glumly, a tissue pressed to her nose.
Tea poured, Malcolm pulled over a chair and sat beside his stricken colleague.
“Now, Katie,” he said, pressing the cup of tea into her hands. “You just take your time, and when you’re ready to speak, I’ll listen. Okay?”
She nodded and took a small sip of the tea. Malcolm waited patiently, ready to assist in whatever way he could. When she’d finished, he took the mug and placed it on the desk.
“Do you think you’re ready to talk about it now, dear?” he asked softly.
She nodded, but as soon as she opened her mouth the tears returned. She fell into Malcolm’s arms, burying her head in his chest. He flinched, but this was his duty; he had to help his staff in whatever way he could. Then she began to wail loudly, like a police siren. The force and volume of her cries took him by surprise. Briefly he thought about bringing her downstairs and letting someone else deal with the problem, but then he composed himself.
“Hush, now,” he urged, worried that someone would hear and interrupt them. “Hush, Katie.”
She carried on bawling, hysterical now. He held her tightly, coddling her as if she were a child who’d fallen over and grazed her knee. After a spell, she calmed down and the crying subsided, replaced by the occasional sob and small, sad gasps of despair. Crisis averted, Malcolm began to savour the moment – he hadn’t held anyone like this since he’d met his wife, twenty years ago. He put an arm around Katie’s neck and another around her waist. He would protect her. She was safe now. They remained like this for several minutes, the tops of their bodies intertwined but each still in their own chair. It was a bit awkward. It’d be so much easier if she joined him on his chair, or if they at least stood up. What he really wanted to do was scoop her up in his arms and place her on his lap; of course he couldn’t do that, it would be entirely inappropriate. However, if she wanted to join him on his chair, then he would allow her to. But they remained as they were. That was fine, too; he was enjoying it. This was enough. He looked down at the top of her head and sighed contentedly. This was nice.
The more he looked at her head, the more he wanted to stroke her hair; tell her everything was going to be all right, that he was here for her. He was a married man, though; he already had someone’s hair to stroke, someone to be there for. Katie shifted her position slightly, quiet now. Was it time to disengage? Had he done his job? If anything, though, she’d moved closer to him. He could feel the swell of her breasts on his chest. It set his heart racing and his senses into overdrive. He breathed the scent of her perfume, felt her warm breath on his neck, the rise and fall of her body as the sobs died down. His body responded in the only way it knew how; an erection ripped against his trousers. And all the while this poor distressed girl sought refuge, solace, in his arms. But she was coming round now, the crying had subsided. Yet still she remained in his arms. What was going on here? The tumescence in his trousers told him one thing but his brain told him quite another; Malcolm chose to listen to his trousers. Her skirt had ridden up when she’d leaned towards him, revealing firm, supple thighs beneath a pair of tan-coloured tights. He looked down at her again. Her head was still buried in his chest, her bosom on his abdomen. What is she thinking? I’m a married man. He laid a hand on her knee and waited for a reaction. A second passed, maybe two; no complaint was made, so he moved his hand further up her leg. Still nothing. It was happening, it was about to happen. Desire consumed him. His hand went straight between her legs and up her skirt. He pulled her towards him, with force, because that what was she wanted. He felt resistance, but chose to ignore it; pulling harder, hurting her now.
She protested, her voice somewhere in the distance as he worked his way inside her underwear.
“MALCOLM!” she screeched.
He sprang away, ready to deny everything. “I wasn’t – I didn’t – ” he stammered.
She looked at him, aghast, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Was this what it was all about, all those friendly chats, the glowing reference, the job offer? This nice man, her boss; he was just like all the rest.
“I can’t fucking believe this!” she said, storming past him out of the office. Malcolm stood
there, stunned, his erection rapidly diminishing. All he could think was: That’s the first time I’ve heard her swear.
He collapsed into a chair, head spinning. What had he done? What would happen now? He slammed his fist down on the desk in frustration. What an idiot. He’d fucked it all up. Everything was ruined. He sat there in a daze, desperately trying to arrange his thoughts into something approaching a plan. But nothing would come. He started to panic. There was only thing for it. He locked the door, pulled down the blinds and opened the locker he liked to refer to as his drinks cabinet. There wasn’t much in there, he didn’t keep much alcohol on the premises given his previous transgressions. This was an emergency, however. He spied a bottle of spirits at the back of the cupboard and pulled it out for further inspection: ouzo, sent to him the previous year by a grateful Greek customer. It would do. His hand shook as he poured himself the first glass, but it wouldn’t shake for long.
*
He’d have stayed in there all day if he could. He would have taken the phone off the hook, and informed the receptionist he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Polishing off the best part of a bottle of Mediterranean spirits had left him with a very full bladder, however, and by early afternoon he could ignore it no longer. He told himself he’d wait until everyone went for their lunch. As soon as the clock struck one they would all file out of the office, leaving him with a clear run to the toilet. He could sneak out, relieve himself and sneak back before anyone noticed. Sure enough, at one o’clock on the dot the mass exodus began. He listened as they streamed past his office, but there was no mention of his name. If they knew what had happened, they weren’t talking about it. He’d already imagined how they’d react; the looks of disgust, the women all ganging up on him like a flock of hens. That dirty bastard. Afraid to come out of his office. Fuckin’ typical. He waited another couple of minutes to be certain they’d all gone, then carefully unlocked the door and dashed to the lavatory. In his haste he didn’t see the solitary figure in the cubbyhole in the corner of the room, but she saw him.