by Celia Hayes
What a hellish day!
Massaging my temples I go back to my office. A light flashes on the monitor notifying me of the arrival of an email. I close the door behind me and open it.
Subject: Urgent Communications.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hello Trudy,
How’s it going in Turriff?
They called me today from headquarters. They want a detailed report on this month’s progress. Attached below are the contacts you need to send a copy to.
Before I forget, RBS announced they are still interested in the sale. The negotiations have started. Try and sort out this budget thing as soon as possible. I want you back in London.
Rupert
I quickly scroll down the message without finding anything unexpected so I close it, deciding to answer later. Right now, I haven’t got time. The town newspaper has asked me for an interview. I put it off for as long as I could, but I’ve run out of relatives’ funerals to go to and, a sudden departure ‘due to the death of my goldfish’ sounds a bit implausible, I gave up on the excuses, and now I have about twenty minutes before I meet a certain Felix, who can’t wait to be told the story of my life.
Lost in thought, annoyed and with a splitting headache, I collect my scarf and bag, walk down the corridor and head for the entrance to tell the staff that I’m about to leave. Everything seems to be going normally, apart from an insistent buzz from the queue at the second counter.
“Problems?” I ask, noting that there is no one at the desk. From desk three Curtis replies “Catherine’s just nipped out for a moment.”
“Excuse me, I’ve been waiting for more than twenty minutes. I’m double parked and I have to be back at the building site in an hour at the latest,” complains a man in his forties wearing work clothes.
“I see. Just give me a minute,” I say, retracing my steps.
Not being able to delegate to a third party, I look for Catherine in the office next to the front door, but no one seems to have seen her. At that point, I look in my office and the one next door, then I get a strange foreboding and, with some agitation I look in the bathroom, fearing that she might have been struck by some sudden illness.
“Miss Hunt?”
She’s right there, next to the sink, wiping her face with a handkerchief. Her cheeks streaming with tears, her eyes as red as watermelons and a runny nose. I recall Mr Bailey’s words with a certain uneasiness and am aware of being responsible for her discomfort. The guilt overwhelms me, but alas, there is very little I can do apart from feel bad in the hope that it’ll be enough to save my soul from eternal damnation.
“Miss Hunt,” I say again, this time calmly and with a mortified expression. “Are you okay?”
Embarrassed, she hastens to hide the devastating effects of her small crisis, reassuring me about her condition. “All… all right, yes, of course. This bloody hay fever,” she explains, attempting a smile.
“Sure,” I say, taking a handful of paper towels. “It must be all the pollen. I suffer from it too. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” I suggest, hoping to be able to help.
“Oh, no… there’s no need. I’ll get right back to work, don’t worry. I’m… I’m feeling much better,” she reassures me as my anxiety grows. “And anyway, you said that we won’t … Well, that if we want to make sure that the branch doesn’t close we all need to work hard, right?”
Her words feel like a knife in my chest, and I become instantly speechless. She smiles at me again, then she slips in front of me, and returns to her desk, pretending that nothing’s happened. I don’t know how she does it but who knows, in her place I would probably do the same. The point, though, is that I have a family behind me, and if I lost everything, they would be there to support me. But what about her?
My mind is suddenly filled with alarming images: her mother lying on a bed in an unfurnished room with peeling plaster, hospital wards, Catherine crying softly and trying to be strong as she makes soup out of vegetable peelings in an empty kitchen.
It’s upsetting… Surely there must be something I can do?
“Miss Watts? Miss Watts, are you still here?”
She takes me by surprise, opening the door. I slump on the sink and run a hand through my hair, a haunted expression on my face. I give her a dismayed look. I feel like shouting “Forgive me, I’m just a pawn of the system,” but I say “What is it?” And I think I must have sounded quite cold, because she’s startled for a moment.
“A delivery for you, Miss Watts. Can you come to your office?”
Only then do I notice a strange gleam in her eyes, but I decide not to attribute any importance to it and hurriedly leave the bathroom with her. As we walk down the hall I feel that everyone is looking at me. At this point I don’t know whether or not it’s just paranoia. I look at myself – my suit and shoes are in order. I check my hair – it looks fine, so why are they all looking at me like that?
When I reach my office, however, I find the answer waiting for me in the arms of a balding delivery boy: a huge bunch of red roses. How many are there? A hundred? He struggles to hold them in his arms, and I can barely catch my breath after the surprise. I’ve never… And certainly not at work…
“Are you sure you haven’t got the wrong address?”
“Are you Miss Trudy Watts?” he asks, reading the receipt.
“Yes, I am.”
“Well then, these are for you,” he confirms, putting them in my arms.
“Tha… Thank you,” I murmur, slightly disorientated and, without thinking, I grab the door handle and shut myself in my office, devoured by curiosity. When I pull my nose up from the flowers, though, I notice a certain anomaly. I lift my eyes and I find everyone in the bank, customers and staff, crowding between the baobab and the petunias, peering indiscriminately into my office, probably trying to find out what’s going on..
What a cheek!
“Do you need to talk to me?” I snap, raising an angry eyebrow, with the immediate effect of scattering the throng. They rush off in the most unlikely directions, pretending to be very busy doing other things. A few stumble. Another nods and leaves, waving a newspaper.
Honestly…
I really don’t want to argue, so I decide to take no notice and barricade myself in my room, looking for a card in the wonderful arrangement. I find it in the centre, set on the stem of a rose: a white card in an anonymous envelope. I don’t just open it; I practically rip it to pieces.
SIMPLY ENCHANTING
ADAM
Well that I really didn’t expect. I try not to lose my head. Don’t get excited! A little composure, damn it!
“Well, how about that…”
And I start to smile like an idiot, waving the air with the card.
Oh God, I’m turning back into a teenager!
“Miss Watts, the newspaper has just called – you’re late…” Catherine opens the door, a cordless phone to her ear. Caught red-handed, I lose my temper and snap at her unfairly, a bit like I’ve always done, more or less… Ever since I met her.
“Of course! Can’t you see I’m going?”
She shrinks away and becomes absolutely tiny, and my guilt comes back to haunt me. How come I never manage to do the right thing?
Bother… Tomorrow I’ll try and get her to forgive me, I promise! But not now. No. Now I’m in a hurry!
Chapter 18
Me, the Grizzly Bear
“I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe…”
“Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion?”
“Worse”
“C-Beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate?”
“Worse”
“Have you got wifi?”
“No”
“Time to die”
When I get home it’s already past eight.
I’m metaphorically and physically in pieces.
I open the door and pick up a yellow envelope from t
he floor, checking the contents as I stagger to the couch, carelessly shedding my clothes along the way.
On behalf of the city committee of Turriff, please remember that the
next meeting will be held Friday afternoon at 18:00 at the rectory.
I do hope you will be able to join us.
The Mayor
“This is stalking!”
I crumple up the note and throw it across the table, then I let myself collapse between the cushions and lie there staring catatonically at the ceiling while my muscles spasmodically return to life with a succession of strange and sinister creaks of my spine. An hour later, I pull together what’s left of me. Time for a shower – I put on my pyjamas and drag myself into the kitchen to prepare something to nibble at.
I open the fridge: empty.
I open the oven: empty.
I open the cupboard: empty, empty… Is that tuna? I look at the sell-by date… No, it’s expired.
I open the cupboard again: dust, cleaning products, plates, CEREAL!
Yes, that’ll do.
I fill a bowl with puffed rice, take a spoon and go back to the table, dumping everything on it: water, glass, bowl. Then I put on something comfortable and go and get my lifeline.
While I wait for it to boot up, I swallow a few mouthfuls. When I see my desktop, I click on the Google icon and prepare myself mentally for a very long session of Facebook slash Twitter slash YouTube slash Skype.
“Wait a minute, what’s going on?”
I try a few times, but the Google page takes ages to appear on the monitor. I scan through the window of network connections, but I can’t find any plausible explanation. I try to open everything. Every available folder, every existing program on my computer but… nothing!
Panicked, I turn it off and turn it on again. Reboot. Reboot again. Still nothing!
Could my computer have had a meltdown?
At that point, a nice exclamation point appears on the connection icon.
Oh God… Oh God… Oh God, now what?
No, let’s think about this: the modem is downstairs in Ethan’s flat. His car was parked in the driveway, so he’s at home. It must be the pub’s closing day.
He’ll definitely know what to do, and that thought gives me the energy to fly out of the door without even getting changed. After racing down the stairs in my slippers, I run to his door and hold down the bell until I hear the sound of his steps.
“Just a minute, I’m coming…” I hear him grumbling from inside. “What’s going on?”
He opens the door probably wondering if there’s been an accident, an alien invasion or the death of Lady Gaga, but instead he finds me – doing my grizzly bear impression.
“There’s no wifi…” I say grimly.
“Hmm… Okay.”
“Maybe I wasn’t clear – there’s no wifi.”
His gaze follows the contours of my body, stopping at every pyjama button. He only looks back at my face when he reaches the pink bunny slippers and focuses on the glasses, then on my hair, again on the glasses and finally on my open and trembling lips.
“You evil demon, what have you done to Trudy Watts? Trudy, can you hear me? Do you want me to call an exorcist?”
“Ethan, there’s no Internet!” I start to shout.
“Yes, I understand,” he says, suddenly serious.
“And you’re just standing there doing nothing? Why don’t you reboot the modem?” I suggest impatiently.
“I don’t think it would make any difference. They said there would be a connectivity problem. They’re doing checks, it should only last a couple of days at the most.”
“Two days? Are you kidding?” I bark. “That’s ridiculous! I can’t live without Internet for two days. What the hell am I going to do? Call someone, don’t just stand there!”
“Trudy, explain – who do you want me to call?”
“We could start with the police—” I snap.
“I’ve got it!” he says, slapping his forehead.
God, thank you.
Comforted, I sigh loudly and close my eyes and wait for him to tell me the solution to my problems.
“You know what I’ll do?”
I’m hanging onto his every word.
“I’ll call the Mayor and ask him to turn on the Bat Signal.”
The… The Bat Signal…
“And I was listening to you!” And I cover my face with both hands.
He can’t resist any longer and bursts into laughter. “Oh… Come on, it was funny,” he says, then realizes that I’m still there, glaring at him.
“A real hoot,” I say sarcastically.
“You’ll see, tomorrow it’ll be fine. Why don’t you take the opportunity to have a break for a moment?”
“I was already doing that,” I point out. “Now, I don’t know what the hell to do. We’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the most desolate countryside in a squalid village in a lost corner of Scotland, inhabited mostly by sheep! There’s no cinema, no theatre, no bloody shopping mall. The nearest health centre is in the next town. Can you explain how I’ll survive until tomorrow?”
He listens patiently to my outburst, his irritating smile never faltering. When he finally realizes I’m about to explode, he scratches his nose lazily and pulls out the proposal of the century “Look, why don’t you come inside for a bit? I haven’t had dinner yet. We could eat something together, listen to some music, talk…”
All this served to me on a platter of sculpted abs framed by promiscuous peaks near the chest with two celestial lakes placed right on either side of the nose.
Can you hate someone for no apparent reason? Yes, you can, I realize as soon as I notice that all my frustration has washed right over him without leaving any trace of its passage. I don’t even know why, but I feel an uncontrollable itch in my fingers and a powerful desire to jump at his neck and strangle him. After having given him a few choice insults that I’d rather not repeat here, I leave him standing and head back towards my apartment. He chases after me, catches me by surprise next to the letter box, and, not in the least affected by my screams, throws me over his shoulder and carries me inside, closing the door with a kick.
“Put me down immediately!” I shout, clinging to his shirt. “Ethan, this isn’t funny. I told you to put me down.”
“I’m sorry. You’ve just been kidnapped, accept it.”
“Ethan, I’ll report you.”
“That’s great, that way you’ll get to know my uncle Frank – he’s the local policeman…”
He passes the kitchen, reaches the living room and dumps me on the sofa.
“Have you finished with the insults?”
“No!”
“You weren’t like this with that idiot, Adam.”
“He’s not an idiot,” I say.
He doesn’t look convinced, but says nothing, just stands there swaying between my legs with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“And now what are you going to do?” I ask him impatiently.
“The fact is that I’ve never kidnapped anybody before. Do you think I should tie you up with a rope?” he asks seriously.
“Will you stop it?” I throw a cushion at him, and it hits him in the face.
“Ouch! That hurt…” he complains rubbing his nose.
“Let me tell you, you’re a bloody useless kidnapper.”
No longer enraged, I let myself lean back against the back of the sofa, take off my slippers and cross my legs with a sigh.
I could really have done without this Internet nonsense.
My life is already a mess without having to deprive myself of the little socialization I have left as well. What am I going to do for the next two days?
“Will you stop acting as if you’d just been diagnosed with a terminal disease?” says Ethan as he sits down next to me.
“Look, you’re the weird one, not me! You don’t seem to care about it at all.”
“Because I prefer to talk to real people, not t
hrough a computer and, frankly, I think you should try it as well. You might even like it.”
“And who should I talk to? I’m light years away from civilization. There’s no one around for miles,” I say in self-defence.
“What are you talking about? It might not be a metropolis, but there are more than five thousand people in this town. How is it possible that you haven’t met anyone to make friends with?”
“Ethan, can you see me talking about gardening with the Mayor’s wife? Come on—”
“Why not? What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, it’s just that I don’t care. I’m not the type.”
“Well you seemed pretty relaxed the other night at George’s party.”
“I was just trying to be polite,” I say, as if he had accused me of being a murderer. Ethan smiles at my reaction, then caresses my face and whispers to me, “You’re not bad when you’re trying to be polite.”
“Ah, I was wondering when that was going to happen. Ethan, I know exactly what you’re looking for, but you won’t get it.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but with that on, you wouldn’t be able to awaken my baser instincts even if you performed a tribal fertility dance,” he says, placing a hand on my knee. “So? Can I tempt you with a glass of wine and a steak?”
“Are you absolutely certain you find me so sexually repulsive?” I probe, scrutinizing him with a searching look.
“I swear!” He puts a hand on his chest.
“Hmm… Okay, let’s have the steaks.”
“Very well! The cutlery’s in that drawer. You lay the table, I’ll cook.”
Chapter 19
Yoga Meditation
“This thing’s about to blow!”
“We already have two cases of pneumonia and a severe case of heartache,
get in line like everybody else”
“So I open the door and I find him standing there like a bloody flamingo in heat, howling at the moon between the thighs of a North African refugee.”