‘Thanks! I’ll let you get back to your meeting. I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be putting in for travel expenses.’
Actually, I just wanted to gloat to my boss, but that probably wasn’t the shortest route to a Superior appraisal.
I was too excited to go straight back to my calls. I gave Ellie the news when she got out of the meeting, then went down to the park to call Rob.
‘Can you talk?’ I asked when he answered. It was a work day for him and I knew he’d be in his office with all the other IT programmers.
‘I wouldn’t have answered the phone otherwise. What’s up?’
I told him about Jenny, embellishing for the sake of dramatic tension. When I got to the part about Jenny suggesting a visit, he said, ‘Shut the front door, you did not get an appointment!’
‘I did.’ I felt suddenly flat. Already the excitement of winning Jenny over was smudging from constant handling. That hadn’t lasted long. No wonder adrenaline junkies were always looking for their next fix. ‘So anyway, I just wanted to tell you. How’s everything going with Pixie?’
‘Fine. Good, actually,’ he said. ‘She’s enthusiastic and flexible and she’s a really good laugh.’
More than me? I wanted to ask.
‘Listen, Katie, I’ve got to go, but that is really excellent news about your client. Congratulations.’
‘Thanks, Rob,’ I said as he hung up. Well, what did I expect? Heartfelt confessions of love at two in the afternoon, more than a month after our date? Plainly, he was my friend again, nothing more. At least there was no awkwardness when we spent time together at the events. If anything we were closer than ever. So why had he changed his mind about me? With the pounds coming off, you’d think that he’d have been more attracted to me, not less. Even if I now had rings under my eyes from lack of sleep, I was a size sixteen (just). For the first time in my life I could wear what everybody else wore. Cakey Katie wasn’t quite ready to wake up from that lovely dream.
Was it worth it? I hadn’t breathed a word of this to anyone, but it really was. It didn’t matter that I was jittery and exhausted from my thyroid, or that my heart was still in overdrive. So what that I had to wear sweat pads to keep from ruining my clothes, which felt like having sanitary towels in my armpits. That was the price I was paying for being able to fit into Topshop’s clothes.
The specialist’s appointment had come around quickly and since everyone – from the consultant to the nurse to the receptionist out front – seemed completely unconcerned, by the time the GP gave me the biopsy results I was relaxed about it. And once I knew for sure that I wasn’t terminal, it stopped feeling like a medical condition to be cured. It started to feel like the luckiest little nodule imaginable.
The GP had explained my options. Behind door number one: drugs that may or may not work and could cause nasty side effects. If they did work, I’d gain back all the weight I’d lost.
Behind door number two: radiotherapy, which the GP assured me was very effective. Over-effective, in fact. My thyroid could become underactive, which would mean I’d gain back all the weight and then some.
‘What if I do nothing?’ I’d asked him.
‘You shouldn’t do nothing,’ he’d advised. ‘Although your results are high–normal and there’s no history of heart disease in your family—’
‘And my heart is healthy, right?’
‘Yes, it is. Even so, your thyroid is working abnormally. You need treatment.’ His grey eyes bore into mine.
‘I need time to decide.’
‘Don’t take too much time,’ he’d warned.
That was a week ago. I hadn’t yet made the follow-up appointment.
Alex’s email was waiting for me when I got back upstairs to make my next call: Well done again for turning Jenny around. That’s got to be some kind of record for perseverance. This deserves dinner, don’t you think?
Dinner in an official capacity? Or dinner in an intimate who-knows-where-this-might-lead capacity? I searched my conscience for any Rob-shaped spiky bits. There were just a few twinges.
Effort counts in a budding romance and a month after he’d made any, I had to accept that whatever we’d had, and as nice as it was, it was clearly over. It served me right, I thought sadly as I emailed Alex to find a night when we were both free. I hadn’t been wholly enthusiastic when Rob first kissed me, had I? That’s what I get for not taking the chance when I had it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Everyone was whispering at work. In the kitchen, in the lift, in the corridors, I stepped into furtive conversations all over the place. The bosses met more than usual in the big conference room, and they stopped having Ellie take minutes. Naturally we started monitoring the kitchen’s fancy biscuit supply. They were the litmus test for strangers on the floor. Sometimes those strangers looked suspiciously like management consultants. We all knew they were the crows of the business world – harbingers of death.
It wasn’t easy to train Smith, my buddy, with everyone around us worrying about their jobs. But I’d promised Alex I’d do it, so I found myself having to deflect his questions. I started to understand what mums went through when they didn’t want their children to know there was no Santa Claus, or that Daddy and Aunt Clara had become more than just in-laws.
Smith had just finished shadowing me on a client call when he said, ‘I’ve heard they’re asking for voluntary redundancies.’
There it was. The word I dreaded. And certainly the word my mortgage provider would dread. My plan to drink the free office coffee hadn’t yet amassed enough riches to offset that kind of income deficit.
‘Who said that?’ I kept my face impassive.
‘You know Stacy in HR? She told me. Though not in an official capacity, you understand.’ He smirked.
‘You do get around,’ I said, wondering why Racy Stacy would waste her hormones on a lowly trainee when there were bigger beds to hop into. I suppose Smith was a good-looking guy – dark, gelled hair made to look like bedhead, big brown eyes that crinkled when he laughed. But I found him just a smidge too slick. He always seemed to be half-listening to me and half-listening for a better opportunity.
He shrugged. ‘I can’t help it if the ladies love me. Stacy heard her boss talking about the list.’
I pulled my Nutritious work hat on. Stern Katie. ‘Well, first of all, you said voluntary redundancies. If they’re voluntary, then there can’t be a list. And second of all, Stacy really shouldn’t be eavesdropping on her boss. And she definitely shouldn’t be spreading rumours that probably aren’t even true.’
‘I’m just telling you what she told me,’ he said defensively.
‘I’m not interested in your pillow talk, Smith.’
‘Sofa talk, actually. And a bit of table talk, if you must know.’ There was that smirk again.
‘Spare me your smutty details, please. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do before lunch. Why don’t you run off and play with the other children.’
He saluted and went back to his desk, thick-skinned as ever. He’d make a fine salesman.
Normally I wouldn’t talk that way to a colleague but Smith and I never really recovered from our first meeting. I’d be glad when the time came to wave good-bye to my buddy.
I told Ellie about the list at lunch.
‘Should we worry?’ I asked as we shared an order of chicken dumplings at the little Japanese restaurant I’d gone to with Alex. Had that really only been a few months ago?
She nodded as she dipped her gyoza. ‘I think it’s only a matter of time. Is your CV updated? It’s a good idea to see what else is out there. You know, jump before we’re pushed, if another opportunity came up.’
The waitress brought our salmon bento boxes and poured more green tea.
‘But then we wouldn’t get any redundancy payout.’
She snorted. ‘What payout? Have you read your contract lately? One week per year. That won’t go far.’
How depressing. When she first men
tioned the company’s finances I imagined taking a few months off before having to find another job.
‘Have you been looking?’
‘I have, a bit. Thomas thinks it’s a good idea. Even if the company turns around, it’s good to know your worth.’
‘That’s Thomas talking, isn’t it?’
Ellie nodded. She was a literature graduate. She thought in couplets, not cost-benefits.
‘There’s not a lot to choose from though,’ she added glumly as she stabbed another dumpling with her chopstick. The restaurant did offer forks but she wouldn’t give up the chopsticks. She stabbed, scooped and slurped her way through Asia’s cuisines.
‘I’ll have to spend some time on the weekend then,’ I said. ‘I’m out tonight hosting that cooking class with Rob.’
‘That’s right. Hey, guess what? I’m cooking tonight too!’
I choked on my pickled seaweed. ‘You are?’
‘I said I’d cook for Thomas. He’s always doing the cooking.’
‘For good reason, Ellie. You can’t cook.’
‘I don’t cook. There’s a difference. But we’ve spent so much time together since our weekend away that I feel guilty he’s always the one cooking. I want to do something nice for him.’
‘I’m not sure your cooking qualifies as nice. Why don’t you throw on something sleazy and take him to bed instead? At least you won’t have to worry about poisoning him.’
‘You underestimate me, darling. I’ve got it all under control.’
‘You mean you’re getting takeaway and hiding the containers.’
‘Don’t you ever tell him. I’ll stop at M&S on the way home. You know they do that really nice lamb shank.’
‘I s’pose that’s safer. Remember to dirty a few pots for authenticity. And if you do ever want to learn how to cook for real, you could come to one of the classes you know. You won’t be able to rely on M&S forever. Especially if you and Thomas get married one day.’
‘Or if we moved in together. Maybe I’d better sign up for one.’
‘You could have come tonight if you weren’t already “cooking”. I’m going straight after work. I’m sure we could squeeze you in and you might be able to bring the results home to feed Thomas. Could you do a later dinner?’’
‘Thanks, but no. M&S will give me all the instruction I need. Remove outer packaging and place in oven at 180°C. Fool-proof.’ She snatched the last dumpling, then carefully sawed it in half with her chopstick and slid the biggest half to my plate.
By the time I arrived at the cooking school in Marylebone, I was worried. And not because someone was about to judge my chicken vol-au-vent.
I berated myself as I made my way to the kitchens. Oh, I’d been so smug, thinking my friendship with Rob had come through the kissing episode unscathed. Weren’t we just the best of friends, able to snog without changing the dynamic?
But the dynamic had changed. There was nothing concrete I could point to, but he wasn’t quite as enthusiastic around me these days. Why should he be? He now knew for sure that he didn’t want to date me. Apropos of the evening ahead, he was the same old pot of water, with the ring turned down from high to medium. I kept watch, but it refused to boil.
The cooking school was housed in an old warehouse down a tiny alleyway. The kitchen we were using was enormous, with cream-painted Victorian iron beams supporting the ceiling high above us. Fifteen-foot-tall industrial windows ran all along one brick wall, letting in the early evening sun. Whenever the sun shone through my windows at home it just showed up all the dust. This room was spotlessly clean. A dozen workstations with hobs and ovens, gleaming knives and pristine chopping boards were spaced in two rows in front of the chef. Since it was a popular event we paired up in teams. Rob was just tying his chequered apron when I got to our station.
‘You look like a celebrity chef!’ I said, taking the apron he offered. He did look adorable, and ridiculously happy. ‘Have you been on the sunbeds or something? Holidaying at the Suntastic in Costa del Hackney?’
‘What do you take me for? No, I haven’t been on the sunbeds. I was away sailing last weekend. In France. Some people at work invited me.’
‘Oh. You didn’t mention you were going away. Was it with Jim and, er, what’s his name, your other friend with the beard?’
‘No. It was with some different people. You don’t know them.’ He became keenly interested in the knife handles. ‘What are these, Henkel? Very nice.’
Every instinct told me to leave it alone. It was none of my business who he frolicked with in France. If he wanted to waste his weekend quaffing rosé and feeding croissants to some woman, it was no business of mine. No good could come of knowing. I tacked my smile in place.
‘Different, people, Rob? Female people, by chance? Was it a date, hmm?’ Nosy Katie, never could leave well enough alone.
‘I don’t think it was a date,’ he said. ‘We all had a lot of fun though, and had perfect weather. Hence the tans.’
I just bet they had great tans. Probably sunbathed topless all weekend. They say curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back. No, it didn’t. It just made the cat wish she hadn’t asked.
I seemed to be the only one in a sour mood by the time we’d checked everyone in and got started. Rob whistled and hummed, clucking to the tune of the Blue Danube Waltz as he danced our chicken into the roasting pan. He certainly was in a fine old mood. Why shouldn’t he be? He’d probably had sex with some tan-all-over woman all weekend. I checked his expression for signs of sexual gratification. He definitely looked happy. But that could have been because we were about to cook and eat a two-course meal.
The chef was pleasant and unsweary, not a bit like the prima donna I’d feared. It probably wasn’t in the school’s best interest to set their grumpy chefs loose amongst the public. He explained everything slowly, and gave people a chance to ask questions. Still, I kept a careful eye on our clients, ready to step in if an extra pair of hands was needed. Rob was an adept cook, more than capable of making our meal.
‘How’s your day been?’ he asked as we took a break to let the vol-au-vents cool. ‘Were you able to book the meeting with Jenny?’
He remembered! He’d seemed so distracted when I called with the news, but maybe I was just being sensitive. Clearly he was listening to me. I was ridiculously happy for this tiny thing.
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘If I know Jenny, she hasn’t finished toying with me. Just because she agreed to meet doesn’t mean she’ll make it easy. I’m ready for her though. Ever since Pixie took over some of my hours, I’ve had the energy for my day job. It couldn’t have come at a better time actually, since I haven’t been doing great there.’ I took a deep breath and confessed about my review (it did feel like a confession), and about the company’s money woes. ‘So Jenny finally saying yes is a life-saver. Or hopefully a job-saver anyway.’
I was being dramatic. Even if the company had to make cuts, my job was probably safe. I was one of the longest-serving salespeople; they needed me.
‘I’m glad Pixie has been doing well,’ I told Rob magnanimously.
‘She’s really great,’ he confirmed. ‘Did you know she can write in shorthand? She did secretarial school before she met her husband. She can transcribe everything we say.’ He laughed. ‘You and I’ve probably lost dozens of brilliant ideas because we spend so much time faffing around and never write anything down.’
Yes, I thought, and I missed our faffing.
The roast chicken came out of the oven crisp and golden and oozing juices. ‘Tent your birds!’ the chef reminded us. ‘Foil for ten minutes please.’
‘God that smells amazing,’ I said. ‘There’s no way this lot will be able to keep their mitts off the chickens. I can barely do it. I’m starving.’
‘You’re always starving these days,’ Rob said. ‘But that’s because of your thyroid, right? You don’t normally eat like a rugby player.’
I snapped my towel at him.
&nbs
p; ‘Have you started the treatment yet?’
…
‘Not yet.’
He stopped chopping the leeks we were using for the chicken vol-au-vents, concern clouding his face. ‘You know you can talk to my dad if you’re not happy with your doctor. He really shouldn’t be dragging his feet like this. You should be on the medicine by now. I know Dad’s surgery is a bit far away from you, but he could have a look at your test results and get you started. Do you want me to call him?’
‘No, no, that’s okay, thanks. I like my doctor. He explained the options when I went in a few weeks ago. Do you know what the side effects are? Jesus, I’m starting to think it’s better to have the condition.’ I busied myself washing up the bowls we’d used.
‘Katie.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Are you delaying this treatment?’
‘What’s that? I can’t hear you over the water.’ I turned the tap on full, spraying water about six feet in the air as it hit the ladle in the bottom of the sink. ‘Oh shit!’
‘That serves you right.’ He threw me a dry towel. ‘And I know you heard me. Are you delaying the treatment?’
I leaned against the counter, mopping my face. ‘I’m not delaying, Rob. I’m deciding. This isn’t easy, you know. The medicine might not even work. It takes months and can have awful side effects. The radiotherapy could make my thyroid slow right down, which means I’d end up fatter than I was before it went wonky. And then I’d be at risk of high blood pressure, heart problems, who knows what? I’m just taking my time, weighing the options.’
‘Is one of your options to do nothing?’ He watched me carefully. ‘Because it sounds to me like it is. I’ve talked to my dad about an overactive thyroid and he said the treatments are effective. There aren’t usually side effects.’
‘You’ve got absolutely no right to talk to your father about my medical condition! That goes against the Hippocratic Oath!’ I lowered my voice when several people looked over.
I could see he was losing his temper too. ‘First of all, Katie, the Hippocratic Oath says nothing about a regular person talking to his father about his friend’s condition. You’re not even my dad’s patient. Be as defensive as you like. You know I’m right. You’re delaying because you don’t want to gain the weight back. Putting your looks before your health is just stupid. You could be damaging your heart.’
The Curvy Girls Club Page 18