The Difference Between You and Me

by Celia Hayes

  Well, we did it in all possible positions. He took me continuously for hours, defying all the laws of physics and a few other laws besides. I’ve never screamed so much. I rediscovered a part of my femininity that had never come to the surface. Not that I blame you, absolutely not. You were always a sweet boy, but we can’t ignore your limitations. It’s not your fault. It’s just that in comparison you’re at a disadvantage. An unbridgeable disadvantage, trust me. And let’s face it, a bit of exercise wouldn’t kill you. Anyway, back to the point – I’ve fallen in love. Madly. Deeply. I hope you can get over it. I’m sure that sooner or later you will find someone with the same passion for porridge, Sundays spent in pyjamas and old slippers. I wish you all the best and I’m confident that one day we can meet for a chat, in the name of the good old days.

  With affection and esteem,

  Trudy

  P.S. I’d recommend that you delete all my contact numbers and avoid coming back here – Ethan’s half Irish and doesn’t like being crossed.

  P.P.S. Do you know how many tiles there are from his door to the bedroom? Twenty-eight! And you know why I know? Because there isn’t one we haven’t had passionate sex on.

  I finish off with a toothy smile and leave, taking advantage of those moments of freedom to make a phone call.

  “Hello? Adam? Hello, It’s Trudy – are you still on for that dinner?”

  Chapter 24

  Me and King Kong

  “Piss off!”

  “And good morning to you too!”

  Following the directions of a petrol pump attendant, I get lost. Following those of a passer by, I go around in circles a few times. Thankfully, though, I meet a child on a bicycle. It costs me two pounds, but I finally reach the impressive Great Wall of China built around the estate of the Cox family.

  I find two security guards at the gate.

  Given their grim expressions, I realize that I have very little chance of getting over that threshold, but this isn’t enough to deter me.

  Parking in the shade of a small group of trees, I start to think of a plan. I don’t know why, but I have a sneaking feeling that all that barbed wire has been put there to stop people like me, so I can’t really blurt out my true intentions. No, if I want to get past the two thugs in dark suits, I have to invent a plausible excuse.

  In search of inspiration, I open my bag and find one of those damned yellow envelopes that they’re always slipping under the door. Irritated, I take it out and get ready to crumple it up when the stamp and printed heading on it give me an idea. Confidently, I adjust my plum-coloured suit, take my bag and approach the gate with a firm step, testing the water with the nearest guard.

  “Good morning, my name is Trudy Watts, I’m looking for Mrs Cox. Is she at home?”

  “Do you have an appointment?” one of the two asks.

  “No. I’m here to deliver a letter on behalf of the local citizen’s committee,” I say, and pull out my trump card with jaunty nonchalance.

  He takes the envelope, turns it over in his hands and, after looking to his colleague for advice, studies me with an expression that comes close to menacing.

  He doesn’t trust me.

  He doesn’t look like someone who trusts anyone.

  I smile amiably, hoping it’ll work, then stay and watch while they confer. They don’t know how what to do, they obviously haven’t been given instructions for cases like this.

  “If we could speed it up…” I point out impatiently.

  The smartest guy nods and walks away, pulling out a cell phone. I stand there with King Kong.

  “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

  “Hmm…” He shows no particular interest in small talk.

  I’m about to start checking how my nail varnish is holding up when I see his colleague approaching. He’s spoken to Mrs Cox, who has suggested leaving the envelope with him. He will take care of giving it to her.

  “Sorry,” I protest. “I can’t. I absolutely need to discuss it with Mrs Cox. The local sewer system has suffered serious damage, and this is one of the areas most at risk. Given the situation, I was explicitly told not to delegate to third parties.” I pull a dramatic face. “It’s for her own safety!”

  The first guy frowns and walks away in the company of his phone and when he returns, however little he likes it, he beckons me to enter.

  I don’t believe it! I’ve made it! I didn’t think it would be so easy.

  And don’t tell me that I’m not right – it was the suit. Suits and buns will open every door.

  While I’m celebrating, the gate creaks open onto a boulevard that runs through a well kept garden. I wave triumphantly at the two heavies and sally forth, hoping that the mansion isn’t too far away. I’m wearing four inch heels and I don’t have much practice at cross-country running on cobblestones. Fortunately, however, as I pass a group of flowerbeds I see the entrance to a three storey house with a Victorian facade. In front of the open door, I find a woman in her seventies waiting for me on the first step of a small flight of stairs with her arms folded and a grim expression. Her hair is tied back and she’s wearing an austere suit. A pair of ice-blue eyes stare at me pugnaciously. A few inches shorter than me, with a robust but trim build, she watches my every move with obvious suspicion. When my hand touches the railing, she interrupts my possible progress with an observation that makes it clear she is in full possession of her mental faculties.

  I fear for the lawyer who will have to cross-question her in court.

  “Miss Watts, I wasn’t aware that you were part of the committee, nor that the local drains were managed by a society of friends.”

  “Erm…”

  “So as we are both aware that you are not driven by noble altruism, can you explain to me what the hell you want?” she asks with extreme grace.

  Strength and courage, Trudy!

  “Mrs Cox, you’re right and I apologize for the silly excuse,” I admit readily. “I was afraid that if I mentioned my intentions immediately, you wouldn’t want to listen to me and that would really be a pity, perhaps more for you than for me.”

  “Amazing, Miss Watts – you get past my guards under false pretences, sneak into my property causing unnecessary alarm and then just dismiss it all as if though you are doing me a favour. Tell me, do you expect me to thank you?” she asks sarcastically.

  “Absolutely not,” I say confidently. “I just need a few minutes of your time.”

  “Miss, at my age one tends to bestow time with extreme reluctance. Now please go back to where you came from and send my regards to Wilbourgh & Trench on my behalf,” she says warmly, demonstrating that she already knows who I am and who I work for.

  “Wait a minute!” I try to stop her before she disappears behind the door. Reaching over the threshold I grab the door handle to stop her from closing it. I know it’s unorthodox, but I have no choice. “Mrs Cox, I can imagine how you feel, but what I have to say might really change the lives of many people, including yours. Please listen to my proposal! If it doesn’t interest you, then you can always say ‘no’, and I assure you that from this moment onwards I won’t bother you any more.”

  “Save yourself the effort,” she says, “no!” And slams the door on me.

  “But…”

  Fuck!

  Okay, plan B?

  From the avenue I hear the heavy footsteps of the two guards. They take less than a minute to reach me, and less than three to throw me out, ordering me not to be seen around there again.

  Okay, I’d say that wasn’t an ideal beginning.

  With no other options available, I get back into the car and return to the office.

  Disappointed?

  No, no… Well, maybe just a little. But I’m not going to give up. There must be a way to convince her and if there isn’t then I’ll just wear her down with my persistence until she gives in.

  *

  Animated by my resilience in the face of adversity, I arrive back at the bank. I’d like to think about
Cox, but I find that it’s besieged by the RBS. What I see upon entering resembles a battlefield where the few survivors surrender to the triumphant enemy hordes. Handing over the keys of the castle is Mr Ward, who takes my place when I’m out. He stands by the door disconsolately and replies absently to the torrent of questions from Richard Marshall, who apparently has no scruples about poking his nose into affairs that don’t concern him.

  It’s a blessing it’s past closing time, otherwise this would be like a public execution.

  “I don’t remember having any meetings planned for today,” I begin, advancing confidently. My firmness seems to capture the attention of all present much more than the lovely coat I put on this morning, which is a shame.

  I interrupt the mumblings of my staff and await a reply from the intruder.

  “Miss Watts, I was waiting for you.”

  “That’s not what it looks like,” I say, making no effort to hide my perplexity. He has just invaded my territory. And nobody invades my territory. Never.

  He smiles, but I sense that I have slightly dented his confidence.

  “Nothing important, don’t worry. I was just asking Mr Ward for some information,” and he hands him a file, which I take and leaf through.

  “Mr Marshall, these don’t seem to me to be documents you have any right to see,” I say, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Normally no, you’re right,” he says hastily, “but given the situation—”

  “What have I missed?”

  “Well, the acquisition is a done deal. Reports from trusted sources have confirmed that you have received approval for the closure of our negotiations. Now it’s just a matter of days… Waiting any longer seemed an unnecessary formality,” he explains, as though it were obvious.

  Now everything makes sense.

  “And so,” he continues, “if you’ll allow me, I’d just like to get acquainted with everything. Please continue, I will not disturb anyone. Mr Ward—”

  The other stands to attention fearfully, ready to satisfy every request.

  “Mr Ward, go back to your office. We won’t be needing you,” I interject. The poor man remains dumbfounded, alternating his gaze between us. “I said you may go,” I repeat, trying to sound friendly, when I’d rather be swinging a battle axe and screaming war cries.

  At that point he is forced to listen to me – I am still the manager, after all. He walks away, but I don’t hear the door close behind me, which means that there is an ear somewhere which can’t wait to find out how it all ends.

  “Mr Marshall,” I start affably. “I don’t really know what sources you’re talking about, but I strongly suggest you re-evaluate their reliability, because at present, Wilbourgh & Trench has not decided whether or not to accept your very kind proposal. The six months of my mandate has not expired yet and it is my duty to try everything possible before giving up and letting the branch go. For the moment, this office is not up for sale and I sincerely hope it never will be. Obviously, I can’t predict the future and I hope, if it proves necessary, to be able to consider your offer, but until then I would ask you to visit me during public opening hours or, if that isn’t possible, by appointment,” I say, while I move towards the corridor leading to my office. “I would also prefer not to find myself in the position of having to reprimand my staff for allowing you to view confidential material. Which, if I may remind you, at least up until this morning was illegal.” And my tone brooks no queries. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do. Miss Hunt, could you accompany Mr Marshall to the door?”

  “Immediately, Miss Watts,” she replies readily, and with a toothy grin she takes a few steps towards Marshall, who, however, is beside himself. He puts his hat on with a clumsy gesture and walks away muttering “Don’t worry, I can find my own way.”

  As soon as the door closes, all eyes are on me.

  They tremble.

  They pace up and down.

  They can barely restrain their obvious anxiety.

  Phew… I’ll have to give them some explanation, otherwise they’ll never let me out of here alive.

  “For the moment, I can’t assure you of anything, but I might have found a way to compensate for the silly manoeuvres committed by your previous manager.”

  “So that means—” begins Curtis.

  “That—” continues Kora.

  “And—” whispers Benny.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we are still in business hours, so I would ask you to all return to work,” I snap with a glacial expression.

  They shut up, and start to nod frantically.

  I watch them all scurry off and, finally alone, smirk smugly to myself.

  Chapter 25

  Allie’s Back

  “I think he’s adorable.”

  “I think I’m going to hunt him down and kill him.”

  “Hello, this is Miss Watts, may I speak with Mrs Cox?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs Cox isn’t at home.”

  “Ah … And when will she be back?”

  “Never!”

  Click.

  *

  “Hello? Hello? Am I speaking with Mrs Cox?”

  “Yes, who is it?”

  “Mrs Cox, I don’t know if you remember me – it’s Trudy Watts?”

  Click.

  *

  “Hello?”

  “Good evening, it’s the debt collection office, could I speak to Mrs Cox?”

  “One moment.”

  “Mary Cox, with whom am I speaking?”

  “Good evening Mrs Cox, it’s Trudy Wa…”

  Click.

  *

  “Mrs Cox?”

  “Wha…? Er, no entiendo. Lady out. I only cleaner.”

  “Mrs Cox, I recognize your voice.”

  Click.

  *

  “Hell…”

  Click.

  *

  I’ll admit it, I’m starting to feel a bit discouraged. I’ve been trying to talk to Mrs Cox for more than a week, but she just won’t hear me out. Unfortunately, I can’t give up – not after having almost literally kicked Richard Marshall out of the bank.

  No, it’s not just that. The truth is that I don’t want to admit defeat in front of the staff. I don’t want to disappoint them.

  It’s not that I’m growing fond of them – I haven’t adopted them like a litter of Labrador puppies. No. But I feel something is changing and it’s affected me. The atmosphere has become relaxed, cheerful at times. They’ve stopped conspiring, carefully avoiding me and no one has been crying in the bathroom recently. Partly because of this and partly because I’m starting to feel responsible for the consequences of my choices, the fact is that now it’s difficult to maintain a certain detachment.

  Every now and then, they come to say ‘hello’, they give me a smile, they try to exchange small talk and I almost always remain silent, torn between the need to keep my distance and not wanting to look standoffish or rude. I don’t know why I worry, it’s never been a problem before, I think… as I put away some folders. I collect my bag and leave the office. Tonight I’m seeing Adam. Unfortunately, he works just as much as I do, so we’ve decided to postpone our date from dinner to after dinner. The town has organized an outdoor movie night in the park. They’re showing an old classic, and selling candyfloss and popcorn from kiosks scattered here and there among the bushes. It’s not really my thing, but I thought it was a pleasant alternative to the classic drink, especially given the lack of local places to go.

  I go home to get changed. From what he said, there won’t be any benches or chairs. Everyone carries a blanket from home and watches the show sitting huddled up in it and fending off midges and ants… so I think we can forget about the skin tight satin dress!

  I rummage around inside the closet a little, and in the end I give in to the inevitable and choose a pair of faded jeans (the only ones I own), a blue top and light blue cotton crossover vest. I let my wavy hair fall on my shoulders, and to compensate for the casual c
lothes, I put on some pearl coloured eye shadow and a coat of light pink lip gloss. All in all, I don’t look that bad. No. I’d say I’m okay. Now, logically I should put on a pair of comfortable trainers, but that would be too much, so I put on a nice pair of dark blue court shoes.

  “Hmm… It’s still early,” I think, peering at the clock. “Maybe I have time for a quick sandwich” I message Adam to tell him to pick me up at the pub.

  When I arrive, I find the usual evening bedlam. Noise at the bar, noise at the tables, the match on TV at full volume and the floor already covered with crisps and spilt beer. I really don’t know why I keep coming back…

  “Good evening, Trudy dear,” Allie greets me.

  Look who’s back!

  “Good evening, Allie dear” I quip sarcastically without her even noticing. “Where can I sit?”

  “Over there. There’s some space next to the pool table,” and she accompanies me, swaying, her pert bottom barely covered by a pair of red shorts.

  I sit down and order without even looking at the menu. Why does she keep giving me one when I always order the same thing? She’s the only one not to have noticed.

  I stay there for a while flipping through an online magazine on my tablet in the company of a beer, until someone sets a steaming burger with mashed potato before my eyes.

  “Oh, than… Erm, hello Ethan – shouldn’t… should you be behind the counter?”

  I’ve been avoiding him all week. We both know it. I don’t feel guilty – I’m not ashamed about what happened, but when I see him, I automatically change direction.