Gravitate

by Jo Duchemin

  It was warm inside the reception area and I smiled at the woman behind the desk. She looked like she was in her forties and she didn’t return my smile. I opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it.

  “You’re from the temp agency? You’re late. And wearing jeans!” She sounded stern, and I felt myself visibly shrink.

  I apologised, not sure why I felt it necessary, “I’m sorry, I…”

  She cut me off before I could finish speaking, not allowing me to explain why I was here. “There’s no point apologising, this is a professional office and you don’t fit in. I will be ringing the agency and asking for a refund. We wanted a personal assistant for holiday cover, not a teenager in jeans.”

  “But I’m…” I tried to speak, but she cut me off again.

  “Mr Acton will not be happy about this – did they tell you that his business partner died? Nasty car crash. Mr Acton was distraught, he’s doing the best he can, and without an assistant it’s twice as hard. You temp girls treat office work like a laugh, but this is people’s bread and butter.”

  “I’m here to see Mr Acton.” I felt flustered from her onslaught and on the verge of tears from her mentioning my father and his death so casually.

  “I’ll bet you are, now that you’ve heard me mention his name. Were you going to sweet talk him into giving you a job? It won’t work, darling, not even a pretty girl like you could talk him into hiring an assistant who wears jeans to the office.” The intercom on her desk buzzed into life, making both of us jump.

  “Andrea,” a male voice, made metallic-sounding through the electronic box, interrupted us, “I have a young lady coming in to see me today, Miss Lee. Bobby’s daughter.”

  Andrea, the receptionist, turned white. Her mouth was open so wide I could see silver fillings in her mouth.

  “Andrea, did you hear me?” the voice continued, “I have a Miss Lee visiting today.” I pointed at myself when he said Miss Lee.

  It was Andrea’s turn to sound flustered. “She’s here, Mr Acton.” Andrea said into the intercom.

  “I’ll be right out to meet her,” Mr Acton replied.

  Andrea stared at me, eyes wide in horror at her faux pas. “I’m so sorry. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”

  Your resignation? I pondered to myself. “A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you,” I said, politely. She nodded and was about to get up, when a door opened to the side of the room we were in. A tall, confident looking man strode out and held out his hand to shake mine. He had a strong handshake. My hand looked like it belonged to a doll, next to his.

  “So nice to finally meet you, Miss Lee. I’m so sorry about your dad.”

  I swallowed hard, speaking of my parents always made me struggle to control my emotions. “Thank you. Call me Claudia,” I muttered.

  “Please, come through to my office. Andrea, could you get Miss Lee a drink?” He turned to me, “Tea? Coffee?”

  “Andrea already offered,” I felt like being kind, even though she’d been so horrible to me; clearly, being around Marty had rubbed off on me. I hoped that neither of them noticed me wince as I thought of his name.

  “I’ll just get your drink.” Andrea sounded relieved.

  Mr Acton led the way into the next room, which had a desk in it – I assumed this was his office, but he continued walking to another door across this room.

  “We haven’t got a personal assistant at the moment, Jenna left a few weeks ago and I haven’t found a decent replacement. We were hoping to get someone in to cover the Christmas and New Year period, there’s always a catastrophe then. My office is through here and your dad’s office is through that door.” He pointed at the other door. “His office hasn’t been touched since…”

  “He died.” I completed the sentence for him.

  “I’m sorry.” He had dark grey eyes and they shone with wetness. He looked away from me, embarrassed. He pulled the handle on the door and held it open for me.

  “You were friends, as well as work colleagues, weren’t you?” I asked.

  He swallowed and I felt desperately sorry for him, here he was nearly crying in front of a teenage girl that he’d never met before. “Yes,” he croaked, his voice soaked in emotion. He motioned to the seat in front of the desk and I sat down. He walked over to the window behind the desk, facing away from me, staring at the view – it was clearly a strategy to avoid crying in front of me – the window looked out on a car park. The door opened and Andrea shuffled in with my drink. She placed it carefully on the desk.

  “Is there anything else you need me for, Mr Acton?” Andrea asked. He shook his head.

  “Thank you, Andrea,” I said, certain that Mr Acton was unable to speak at the moment. Andrea left the room and Mr Acton remained facing the window. The room was silent for a few minutes. I watched him – he didn’t look how I imagined. I thought he’d be fat and middle-aged. He was taller and younger than I’d thought. I could see the resemblance to Ben, the same grey eyes and brown hair, although Mr Acton’s hair was flecked with salt and pepper grey hair. Eventually, he turned around to face me, his cheeks flushed.

  “Sorry. I haven’t really talked about Bobby’s death with anyone.”

  “You didn’t come to the funeral,” I said.

  He cleared his throat. “We had a big deal on – I knew where Bobby would have preferred me to be. He loved this business.”

  “I know.” I smiled, weakly.

  “Did you want to see his office?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Go ahead, I’ll give you a few minutes alone,” he said. I was certain that the time was really for his benefit, for him to compose himself.

  I walked out of Mr Acton’s office and into the one that had belonged to my dad. It had a slightly musty smell of paper. Where the weak, winter sunshine shone through the window, particles of dust circulated in the air. A comfortable chair sat behind the desk. I instinctively wanted to sit in it, to see what my dad saw when he was at work. The chair creaked slightly as it took my weight. I leaned my head to the side and breathed in the scent from the chair, its comforting smell reminding me instantly of my dad’s favourite aftershave. I looked around the room. Filing cabinets filled up one wall, the other had a bookshelf filled with books on building, property development, design. All things I didn’t really know much about. There were some certificates and photos further along the wall with the bookshelf. On the wall facing the desk, directly in front of the chair, was a huge, framed photo of my parents and I. It was one taken when I was about five years old. On the desk itself were other photo frames, images capturing my growth from toddler to teenager. My mum and dad in a black and white wedding photo, forever frozen in the first flush of romance, poised to feed each other cake. It was all too much. I slumped over the desk, crying yet again.

  I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but I felt a hand on my shoulder, gently prodding me. Mr Acton stood over me, holding a box of tissues. I gratefully took one, sure that I looked a mess. He knelt down next to me.

  “Thank you for the tissues, Mr Acton,” I blubbed.

  “You’re welcome and call me Sam. When you’re ready, I’ll take you on the grand tour of the building.”

  “That’s nice of you, I’d like to see it, but to be honest, I don’t think I’m cut out for running a property development company. I’m only eighteen.”

  “You don’t know until you try. I started working here when I was nineteen. I’d just got my then-girlfriend pregnant with Ben, I’d quit university and desperately needed a job. I learnt everything from your dad.” Sam looked at me earnestly.

  “You don’t want to be saddled with a teenage business partner,” I said.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I’ll bet you’re more mature than most of the middle-aged farts I’ve come across in this line of work. And I’ll bet the builders would be eating out of your hands if you fluttered
your eyelashes at them. It never works when I try it.” Like Ben, he made weak jokes that I felt compelled to laugh at.

  “It’s so strange, seeing where my dad spent so much of his time…” I paused, about to tell him something I’d never told anyone, not even Marty. “When I’m in the house on my own sometimes, I pretend that they’re just at work, that they will come back at any moment…seeing all of this, untouched…” I’d run out of words to describe my feelings.

  “It makes it real?” Sam ventured.

  “Yeah. It felt real already, but it feels like a sharper pain today. I don’t know how to explain it.” I looked to the ceiling, anywhere but at the photos around the room.

  “You’ve been through a lot,” he simply said.

  I nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

  Sam took me on a tour of the building, the offices where architects worked on plans and interior decorators worked on computer simulations of completed rooms. He explained as much as he could about the business, but I think he could tell it was going over my head. When he started talking about profit margins and yields, I felt completely lost.

  The staff members were mostly very friendly, but I noticed a change in their behaviour when they were introduced to me. They were jovial until they heard my name and worked out who my dad had been. Then they went quiet and reflective. Some looked at me with pity, tilting their heads and asking how I was coping. Some looked flustered and found urgent matters to deal with. The kindest comments were the ones saying how much they missed my dad. I was back to being the poor orphan, again.

  At midday, the staff started to filter out of the office, and Sam explained that they were working a half day as it was their Christmas party that evening. He asked if I wanted to attend, but I wouldn’t have felt right about it, even if I didn’t already have plans with my friend, Jade.

  “Sam, is it OK if I take a few of the books from my dad’s office? I’d like to read up on the business a bit, before I commit to a decision.” My voice sounded child-like, far too young to be a company director. I didn’t even know why I was bothering to borrow the books. I should really just sign the company over to Sam, right now. He cared about the business as much as my dad and he’d built it up alongside him.

  “Of course, I will need to talk to you about some important decisions soon though, like hiring a new personal assistant – using temps is having a detrimental impact on the company. Will you be around during the holidays?” We were standing in my dad’s office, he was pulling a selection of books off the shelf and handing them to me.

  “I’m visiting my aunt for a few days, but I’ll have my mobile phone with me.”

  “That’s great – just leave the address where you’ll be staying with Andrea, in case we need to send any paperwork for your approval. I’m really glad you came to see us today, Claudia. Bobby would be so proud of you.”

  I swallowed a big lump that had formed in my throat. He’d been very kind and he was clearly mourning my father, too. “Thank you, that means a lot to me,” I struggled to speak.

  I walked around to the reception desk, and the greeting I got from Andrea was the polar opposite of the way she’d talked to me this morning. I left Aunt Sandra’s address and telephone number, and told her the dates that I would be out of town. I took my dad’s books and walked slowly back to my house.

  I passed the afternoon by flicking through my dad’s books, reading and re-reading the same paragraphs, unable to take in the information they contained. Every time I started reading, my attention wandered to Marty, and then I had to chide myself for thinking of him. It was so tempting to indulge in the images of him that floated through my head.

  I tried to distract myself from Marty by cleaning the house. Jade was heading over before we went out, to have dinner and get ready together. Part of me was looking forward to seeing her and being someone else for a few hours, and the other part of me just wanted to be left to mope in my misery. I imagined Marty watching me and sighed. I knew it was hard for him to watch my pain, but surely it was just as hard to watch me trying to move on, to pretend that our love hadn’t completely altered the person that I was. He was so self-sacrificing, he probably would enjoy watching me move on. I wished I could enjoy making the effort.

  I put a bottle of sparkling wine in the fridge to chill – I couldn’t afford champagne, but I felt I should attempt to acknowledge my first big night out since my parents died and since Marty had left. I knew Jade would enjoy the wine, even if she didn’t know the true reason for us drinking it.

  When I decided my house couldn’t be cleaner, I crawled into my bed for a nap. It had been a long time since I’d been out on the town, and I knew Jade liked a late night. I didn’t feel like a teenager anymore. I didn’t feel like myself anymore.

  Chapter 22

  I awoke to the sound of the doorbell being rung, followed by hammering on the front door. I’d slept longer than I’d planned and it had turned dark. I raced down to answer the door to Jade, worrying about how cold it must be for her outside. I could hear her mum’s car engine running as she waited to make sure I opened the door. I turned the lock and pulled the door open, glad to see a friendly, familiar face.

  “Sorry, Jade, I fell asleep.” I waved to the car, not able to see her mum, but knowing she would see me. The engine grew louder as the car pulled away from the kerb.

  “Bloody hell, babe, it’s freezing out here!” Jade’s cheeks were turning red from the cold and her breath hung in the air like a cloud. I pulled her inside the house and she gave me a huge hug. It was just what I needed. We stood embracing for a few moments, me clinging to a familiar human, someone to remind me of my previous, carefree life. Jade rubbed my back in the same way you would comfort a crying child. “How have you been?” she asked.

  I pulled away from her arms and she began taking off her scarf and coat. I took them from her and hung them over the banister, knowing we would need them again to go out later. “I’m OK. Some days are worse than others. Today was tough. I went to my dad’s office…”

  She tilted her head, sympathy oozing out of her. She didn’t make me continue speaking. “That must have been hard. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  “I’d rather not talk about it anymore today… I feel all cried out to be honest,” I looked at her and managed a small smile, “I’d like to just pretend to be the old me tonight, to not have to be the poor orphan for a few hours.”

  She bent down to pick something out of the carrier bag she’d brought with her and produced a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. “In that case, let’s start as we mean to go on! I am a girl on a mission tonight!”

  “What’s your mission?” I asked, as we walked into the kitchen and I located a corkscrew.

  “To have as much fun as possible, and forget about that dickhead, Mike.” Jade winced as she mentioned her ex-boyfriend, one of her university flatmates whom she had unfortunately found in bed with another girl. “Want to join me?”

  I grabbed some wine glasses as she opened the bottle. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Drink,” she replied, filling up the wine glasses generously.

  “And?”

  “Men.” Jade gave me a wicked grin.

  “Count me in for the first and out for the second.” I said, raising my glass to her.

  “Do you have a special someone?”

  Yes. “No…not anymore.”

  Her eyes widened as she waited for details. I knew Jade wouldn’t stop asking until I told her something, it was easier to just tell her the gossip straight away.

  “I fell in love with my lodger.” I could almost hear her chin drop.

  “You said he was old in your email.”

  “Older, I said he was older. Not old. Do you want to hear this or not?” Talking about Marty was hard enough, and I didn’t want to drag this out.
<
br />   “Tell me everything, every juicy detail.” Not likely, I thought.

  “So, a few days after he moved in, I started falling for him; and it turns out he felt the same way about me.” I watched as Jade’s eyes lit up. For all her man-eater appearance, she was an old romantic underneath it all. “We fell in love, but he had to leave me. He had to go and help people really far away. He only left on Sunday.”

  “Oh…” Jade was silent for all of a second, “they say the best way to get over one man is to get under another man.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “That is so not going to happen. You are perverted, you know that, right?”

  “That’s what they tell me!” she giggled and I joined in. We had both had our hearts broken and had very different outlooks for dealing with the pain. I had been wallowing in my heartache, acknowledging the void that Marty’s departure had left in my life. Jade was seeking approval, validation from any males that crossed her path. Perhaps the difference was due to our personalities, or perhaps it was due to the polar opposite endings of our relationships. Her love had cheated on her. My love had been unwillingly ripped apart from me. I was still pondering on this when she spoke again.

  “You’ve lost weight,” she commented.

  Had I? I supposed I hadn’t been eating properly or taking very good care of myself for the past few days and I was dancing at rehearsals a lot, recently. “I’m told heartbreak is good for shifting the pounds,” I replied. She pushed the box of chocolates towards me. I picked out an orange cream, wondering to myself if that counted as one of my five a day fruit portions.

  “You need fattening up. You look too skinny. Pizza tonight?”

  I nodded, “Pizza would be great.” I would need something to soak up the alcohol; judging by the way Jade was knocking back the chardonnay, she would too. She’d already finished her first glass of wine and was pouring out a second. I walked over to the drawer where my mum had kept any takeaway flyers that were delivered through the door and selected the one for my favourite pizzeria. “What did you fancy?”