by Simon Bourke
With her place in the company secure, Katie set about making an even bigger impact. She didn’t care whose toes she stepped on; sod those miserable gits, she’d have passed them all out within a year anyway. If she could land a full-time position on the back of two months’ work experience, there was no telling what she could achieve with a bit more hard graft. And, true to form, she was gradually given more and more responsibility. It might have said ‘junior accountant’ on her payslip, but she was practically running the place. She whizzed round the office, attending to her duties with maximum efficiency and smiling as she went. What an asset she’d become – was it any wonder they’d kept her on? She started doing overtime three or four evenings a week, even came in on a couple of Saturdays when Malcolm suggested it. At the rate she was going, she’d have enough for a down-payment on a house by the end of the year. She was still in her Micra, though. The new car would have to wait.
But her devotion to her job began to affect other areas of her life. She didn’t have as much time for Ian as she’d had before. What did he expect, though? She was saving for their future. She was working all these extra hours for their new house, and if that meant fewer nights out and occasionally being too tired for sex, then he’d just have to put up with it. He ought to see the bigger picture, as she did. It’d all be worth it in the future, she told herself, as she cancelled dinner plans for the fourth time in as many weeks. They’d been together since she was eighteen, six years now, and they were strong enough to endure anything. Eventually they would be married, have children and live happily ever after. That was a given, they’d discussed it on countless occasions. So even when his complaints became more vociferous, she didn’t think much of it. He’s just letting off steam. I’ll make it up to him at the weekend.
She didn’t make it up to him; instead she worked all day Saturday, and when she got home she was too tired to go out for a drink. He came round to see her, even though she’d told him not to. He had a go at her, saying that her job was destroying their relationship. ‘But if you loved me you’d understand’, she told him. ‘I’m a working girl now; I’m doing this for us.’ She couldn’t believe how pig-headed he was being, how selfish. He left in a huff and they didn’t speak for the next couple of days. He’d get over it, though; he’d understand eventually. They’d survived worse than this. Then came the text.
She’d just arrived at work and was parking her car when the phone bleeped. Noting the time, 8:04, she opened the message. It was from Ian.
This isn’t working, Katie. I think we should split up.
Her first emotion was anger. Six years together, and he breaks up with me by text? That was quickly replaced by anguish and remorse. What had she done? He was the love of her life, the one, and now he was gone. She sat in her car, looking blankly at the phone. What was she supposed to do now? She tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. She needed to talk to him, to see him, to find out if their relationship could be salvaged; but she couldn’t take a day off work, not for showdown talks with her boyfriend. Imagine what Nadine would say if she heard that? She’d have a field day.
Katie tried the number again. Once more it went to voicemail. She could go to his workplace; it wasn’t far. It would be the ultimate romantic gesture. She’d stride through the factory, ignoring the looks from grimy men in boiler suits until she found her man. Then, not caring who was watching, she’d throw her arms around him, dirtying her blouse, smudging her make-up, and proclaim her eternal love. All the men would coo, and she and Ian would share one of those Hollywood kisses where the woman leans back and is almost swept off her feet. That would show him how much he meant to her. But she couldn’t take a day off work; she couldn’t even take a few hours off. They were really busy at the moment and she had to keep on top of things. So she rang him once more and left a message.
“Ian, when you get this, please call me back. We need to talk. I love you.”
That would have to do. She went inside and upstairs to the office. She was first in, as always. As she sat down in her chair and clicked on the computer, she suddenly crumbled. The enormity of the situation hit home, and with it came the tears. She still had enough about her to vacate the office and make a dash for the toilets; if anyone saw her crying her eyes out, she’d never live it down. Inside the stall she let it all out, weeping ceaselessly and with abandon. She rang him again and again, a dozen times or more, leaving incoherent voicemails, each one more hysterical than the last. It was no use; he hated her. It was over.
There was a knock at the door; not the door of the cubicle but the main door. Christ, had she really been that loud? A voice called out to her; it was Malcolm. Hearing him calmed her. His was the only friendly face in the entire office, and she needed a friend right now. She left the cubicle, taking deep breaths, trying to compose herself. She knew she must look a mess but she didn’t care. Gingerly opening the door, she peered around and there he was, a picture of concern. As he took her by the arm she broke down again. Fresh floods of tears, talking gibberish as she tried to explain what had happened. When he suggested they go to his office she went willingly; a cup of tea and a shoulder to cry on, just what she needed. And boy did she cry; she hadn’t thought it possible to shed so many tears. All the while, her boss was the gentleman she knew him to be. He held her softly in his arms and told her everything was going to be all right, and eventually she began to calm down. When she felt his hand on her knee, she thought it was a sign for her to stop snivelling into his shirt and pull herself together. Just a couple of moments more, she thought, as she laid her head on his chest; then she felt his hand move up her leg, slowly but unmistakably towards her crotch.
His face! His disgusting, pathetic little face, mouth opening and closing like a fish. It was pitiable. Did he really think he had a chance with her? Was this what it was all about? Clearly it was. As she scurried away from his office, she felt the tears return. She’d been such a fool. As if anyone would hire her based on her work; no, he’d just wanted to get into her knickers. There she was, telling herself she was this up-and-coming career girl, someone with a bright future, when all along she’d been just a piece of meat, a fantasy shag for a middle-aged has-been. She wouldn’t let him defeat her, or any of them for that matter. So she made another trip to the bathroom, gave herself a little pep talk and reapplied her make-up, then returned to her desk. She was going to sit there and do her work, and if any of them so much as looked at her there would be hell to pay.
It was the other one who approached her, Dennis; that was his name, apparently. He’d never formally introduced himself, but from what she could gather he was the other half of the dynamic management duo. He never seemed to stray far from his private quarters, so when she saw him making a beeline for the accounts department she knew something was up. He looked ill at ease and out of his depth. She could see why he spent most of his time in his office.
“All right, Dennis, to what do we owe the pleasure?” asked Nadine.
“Oh, y’know, just checking on the troops,” he replied.
“Well, someone has to, now that Malcolm doesn’t come to see us anymore,” said Nadine, shooting Katie an accusing look.
“Malc’s been busy of late. Things’ll get back to normal around here soon enough.”
“I should hope so,” harrumphed Nadine, as if her fate depended on it.
“It’s actually Katie I’ve come to see,” said Dennis, turning his attention to her.
Katie didn’t need to ask about the nature of his query; she already knew what he was here for. He’d been sent to do his mate’s dirty work.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I wondered if you could come see us after work, in my office?”
“Am I in trouble?” she enquired, knowing she wasn’t.
“No, no, nothing like that. Just need to discuss a few things with you, that’s all.”
“Okay, I’ll be there,
” she said, flashing him her most winning smile.
“That’s the lass,” he winked, ambling away back to his office.
The time had come; he’d finally plucked up the courage to have it out with her. It had taken two weeks. She had no qualms about facing him; she’d done nothing wrong, after all, but she was glad Dennis would be there too. He’d probably back up his mate but that didn’t concern her, she just didn’t want to be alone in a room with him again. If they tried to gang up on her and make out that it was no big deal, she’d bloody well show them. This was not going to be swept under the carpet and forgotten about.
10
Malcolm wrung his hands nervously. He looked at the clock: 4.55, almost time. He needed a drink, just a wee dram to settle him down; but Dennis had cleaned out the cupboard, taken it all. He’d even found the back-up stash, the emergency bottles that he’d thought no one knew about. Malcolm could hear a low murmur circling around the office outside, the uneasy air of people waiting to down tools. They officially finished at five every evening, but not one of them worked beyond ten to. Coats were being pulled on, computers shut down and chairs pushed under desks. Occasionally he would emerge during this early evacuation and ask what time it was, to be met with looks of derision. It annoyed him that they did this, but he didn’t want to become the kind of boss that went around tapping his watch, asking for more productivity. He had a healthy relationship with his staff and he wanted to keep it like that. Well, he had a healthy relationship with most of them.
He listened to them shuffle out the door, full of plans for the evening, eager to enjoy their time away from the old nine-to-five – how lucky they were. He peeped out through the blinds, looking over towards the cubbyhole. There she was, quietly playing with her phone, waving half-hearted goodbyes to the others. Had she told them she had a meeting with the bosses? They’d surely be gossiping about it, speculating as to what she could have possibly done to get an audience with not one but both commanders-in-chief. Malcolm crept out the door and made his way to Dennis’ office, not daring to look behind him in case she was on her way. Dennis had set out three chairs in the middle of his office, none of them behind a desk, in an attempt to create a neutral environment. He nodded to Malcolm as he entered the room.
“You sit there, mate,” he said, pointing to one of the chairs.
It mattered little which one, they were all equidistant. Malcolm wondered if his colleague had used a measuring tape during the process.
“Had to make sure the girl didn’t feel threatened, Malc,” he said, by way of explanation.
“Of course,” said Malcolm.
He had been so caught up in his own wretchedness that he hadn’t stopped to think how difficult this was going to be for Katie. A crime had been committed against her, and it was important she should be made to feel relaxed.
There was a light tap at the door. Malcolm felt his knees go weak. He quickly sat on the nearest chair.
“Come in,” said Dennis.
Katie popped her head round the door, surveyed the room and entered with a smile, briefly acknowledging Dennis and taking a seat without looking at Malcolm.
“Now then,” said Dennis, looking from one to the other. “Who’d like to begin?”
Katie stared ahead silently. She wasn’t going to make this easy for them. Malcolm looked down at the floor, at his feet, anywhere but at Katie.
This wasn’t what Dennis had expected. He’d done his part; he’d brought them together and organised a favourable environment. They were now supposed to resolve their issues.
“Well,” he said, attempting to seize the initiative. “We should start by – ”
Katie looked at him in bemusement. She was almost enjoying herself watching these two, all hot and bothered. Let them squirm, she thought, I’ll just sit here and watch them sweat.
“Look, we’ve got a situation here and we need to bloody well sort it out,” said Dennis, shedding any last smidgen of formality.
Katie raised her eyebrows in surprise. It looked as if one of them had some balls, after all.
“Malcolm, I believe you owe this girl an apology.”
Malcolm lifted his head slowly. If there was any chance of him getting his life back, it all rested on these next few minutes. He turned to look at her, ensuring that he didn’t stare or allow his eyes to linger on any part of her person.
“Katie,” he started. “I understand if you hate me, because I hate myself after what I did to you.”
Dennis shifted in his chair; he hadn’t been expecting this.
“I took advantage of the trust you placed in me,” Malcolm continued. “You came to us in good faith in the hope of beginning your career, and I ruined it all. I was foolish, so foolish. I thought that maybe you liked me and that if I was nice to you there was a chance ... a chance that something might happen between us.”
Malcolm gulped twice, wordlessly accepting a glass of water from Dennis. Katie watched him drink, wondering if it was her turn to speak, but as soon as he set down the glass he continued.
“I was kidding myself, I know that. A young girl like you? How could you ever be interested in someone like me? But I allowed myself to think otherwise. I told myself I was doing nothing wrong, we were just friends; that’s what I said to myself. But every morning when I woke up the first thing I thought of was you, and how I couldn’t wait to see you again.”
Katie flushed a little. If he weren’t such a creep, this would have been slightly romantic.
“I suppose I was just infatuated with you,” he continued. “You made me feel young again and I was willing to risk everything to be with you. My wife, my kids, my job ...”
He coughed back tears, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.
“I know now how very stupid I was, how ridiculous it was of me to think in such a way. What I did to you, taking advantage of you when you were upset – I’ll never forgive myself for that, never.”
Malcolm stopped, realising he had forgotten himself. He looked sheepishly at Katie and put his head down, as if waiting for sentencing.
Dennis once again took the reins.
“Okay, Malc. Well done, mate, that can’t have been easy. Katie, what do you want to say to Malcolm in response?”
Katie cleared her throat. Malcolm’s words meant little to her; it was easy to be sorry after the event. He was right, she did hate him but as she looked at him, head bowed and shoulders slumped, she felt some pity also.
“You manipulated me,” she said, “used me for your own titillation. You made me think you believed in me and that I could make a difference here. But all you wanted was to cop a feel, get your end away, whatever you want to call it. But more than that, you betrayed me. I actually liked you, Malcolm. I thought you were a nice guy. I went home and told my mum all about you, my friends too. ‘My colleagues are all wankers but the boss is great’, that was my running joke.”
She had thought she was in control of her emotions, that she could come in here, ice-cold, and make him suffer. But it was affecting her too, dealing with this, the feelings it brought up.
“… and the way you did it ...” she said, the words choking in her throat.
She cursed herself for being so weak and tried to fight it, but that only made it worse. She was crying now, angry shameful tears, brought about by this whole sordid episode. All she wanted to do was to get out of here and never return, but she had to see it through to the end.
She didn’t want him thinking his behaviour had had so much impact on her, that someone so despicable could affect her life.
“All I wanted was a good job, and you destroyed it,” she blurted out, this final effort sending her into fresh floods of tears.
Dennis looked to Malcolm for guidance, but Malcolm had been here before and he wasn’t about to compound his errors. He shrugged his shoulders and sat there dejectedly.
“There, there, love,” said Dennis, standing over her, terrified to lay even a finger on her. He filled another glass of water and held it hopefully in her direction.
“For fuck’s sake,” said Katie bitterly, fishing out a tissue from her handbag.
Dennis took a step back, fearful of further recriminations.
She was angry at herself now, not just for crying when she’d planned on keeping her cool, but for the whole sorry affair; for being stupid enough to get excited about some poxy work experience and for believing that she was actually good at her job, that her boss had faith in her and that she could make something of herself. There was no chance of that. There never had been. She was just something nice to look at, an object of desire, a fantasy.
“Fuck you Malcolm,” she spat out suddenly. “You’re a devious little weasel. How dare you? I should bring the company to court and destroy you. How would your wife feel then? I know you haven’t told her. Have you?”
Malcolm had lapsed into a fugue state, but under the face of this assault he regained his focus, albeit shakily.
“No, not yet,” he mumbled.
“Not yet,” she mimicked sarcastically. “So you’re going to tell her, then?”
“Eventually,” he replied, knowing that, despite the depth of his guilt, he had no immediate plans to tell his wife anything.
“Why not now?” asked Katie.
She was in full flow now. Enraged. It felt fantastic.
“Let’s deal with this first, shall we?” Malcolm replied hopefully.
“But this is dealing with it, Malcolm. In order for us to resolve this situation, I think it’s necessary for your wife to be informed. Dennis, could you ring her, please?”