‘What, because of the extra eighteen minutes you’ve put in this morning?’
‘No, because I left in a hurry and basically trashed the place.’ She needed to make it back to the flat, or ‘apartment’, as Jarvis liked to call it, to have a quick tidy-up before Jarvis got in.
‘Jarvis won’t like that.’ Alex tutted in an uncannily Jarvis-like manner.
‘Precisely why I need to get home before him.’
‘Why so early if you were in a rush?’ Alex was screwing up his face.
‘I dropped my friend Cleo at the airport.’
‘Artist. Posh sort?’
‘Yep, that’s the one. She’s jetting off for two months to Dubai, Japan and some other awesome places.’ Regan flopped back in her seat. ‘I wish I was going with her. She has the best life.’ She turned her head towards Alex. ‘Would you like to travel?’
‘I do travel.’ He looked affronted. ‘I go to Skegness every year.’
‘Hmm. Not quite the same.’
Alex gave a twitch. ‘Japan may have the edge on Skeggy.’ They both sighed together.
‘Ooh,’ said Regan, pulling her purse from her bag. ‘Look what I got.’ She held up the lottery ticket and gave it a wave. ‘It’s a rollover on Saturday. Ten million quid. Think what you could do with that.’
They both paused for a moment, lost in thought, until their boss, Nigel, tapped on his glass office door and they both quickly got back to work.
Regan liked Alex. There was no romantic pull on her part, but she knew he was quite fond of her thanks to some slurred words after too much tequila at the Christmas party. In any case, he made the day go quicker: they kept the tedium at bay by winding each other up on a regular basis. Nothing major; just the usual office pranks like hiding each other’s mouse, changing chair adjustments and unplugging equipment. It was quite childish, but it made work marginally more entertaining.
Most of the day was uneventful. In the afternoon, Regan found herself dozing off in a very dull meeting about discounting and promotions. Alex gave her a nudge and she turned what she feared was a snore into a cough. A few heads spun in her direction.
‘Terrible hay fever,’ she muttered, pulling a tissue from her pocket. Alex shook his head at her.
She could see he was furiously scribbling things down on his pad; she eyed him with suspicion. Alex was like her in a lot of ways; neither of them usually put in any particular effort at work, although Alex still fancied himself for a promotion. Regan couldn’t really see the point. She’d get paid very little extra at the end of the month, but have a load more responsibility. No, she was all right just doing what she needed to and no more. She understood why sales people worked harder for a bonus, or people who ran their own company, but it totally foxed her why an ordinary employee would do any more than the minimum required.
She leaned over and tapped a finger on Alex’s pad. He tilted it for her to see. The title at the top jumped out at her: ‘Lottery Rollover – What I’d do if I won’.
‘You don’t even have a ticket,’ she whispered.
He shrugged. ‘I’ve got loads of time to get one.’
She pulled the notepad from his grasp and had a read. It was fairly standard stuff. She handed it back and began jotting down her own. Regan chewed the end of her pen and made some crossings out as her imagination soared.
Live in a big huge awesome home
Help Dad out
Get a pedigree puppy
Save the tiger whale some important animal
Run my own successful company
Bask on a deserted island and drink cocktails served to me by bare-chested waiters
Go out and enjoy myself
She had another scan of Alex’s list. He’d put down ‘Hook up with celebrity females’. Regan snorted and Alex turned his pad away. She studied her own list. Where did Jarvis feature? After how he’d annoyed her that morning, did he feature in her lottery fantasy life? She added an extra item to the list. It was only a laugh after all.
Get new hot boyfriend who doesn’t nag or wear button-up pyjamas
‘Regan?’ asked Nigel, their manager, who was standing at the front, his expression one of knotted puzzlement. Alex gave Regan a nudge and knocked her pen from her hand, making her jolt upright.
‘Er, yes. Sorry. I was concentrating on my notes,’ she said, reaching down and scrabbling on the floor for her wayward pen. Alex kicked it and it disappeared. She glared at him.
‘How many queries do we get relating to errors in discounting?’ Nigel repeated.
‘Um,’ she scratched her head, ‘Alex?’ She looked pleadingly at him.
He grinned. ‘Regan is the data guru on this.’
Thanks for nothing, she thought. She’d definitely get him back later. ‘A couple a week. Maybe.’ She didn’t really record them like she was supposed to, so it was a complete guess.
‘When I last checked the figures, they were much higher than that,’ said Nigel.
Regan wondered if that was the column on the end that she added lots of ticks to at the end of the week. ‘It’s quite variable,’ she said. ‘Peaks and troughs.’ Nigel nodded and she relaxed. She needed to pay more attention, but it was hard when meetings were this boring.
Back at their desks, Alex was still tittering about Regan’s questioning in the meeting. Regan started plotting her revenge. It needed to be something hilarious. She zoned out trying to come up with a suitable penance for Alex while she did some data input. When he went off to a meeting she put a sticky note over the sensor of his mouse so it wouldn’t work and flipped his login screen upside down. They were only temporary measures, but they would at least put him off the scent that she was planning something bigger.
Regan paperclipped her lottery ticket to the wish list she’d drawn up.
‘Predictable,’ said Alex, returning to his desk and flipping his screen back. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, nodding at the lottery ticket.
‘I’m not giving Jarvis any additional excuses to moan about me spending money. And if I win it’s probably safer here.’ She stopped short of adding that replacing Jarvis was an item on her wish list.
Alex made a grab for it. ‘Do the numbers mean something?’
‘Nope. It’s a lucky dip. Statistics show you’re likely to win more money with a lucky dip.’
Alex looked momentarily impressed. He pulled out his phone and took a snap of the ticket. ‘Hey,’ she said snatching it back. ‘What are you doing that for?’
‘So I’ll know if you’re lying when you ring me on Monday and tell me you’re on a beach in Barbados.’
‘As long as you don’t buy a ticket with the same numbers. I don’t want to share with you.’ She put the ticket and wish list safely in her desk drawer and locked it.
Alex stuck his tongue out at her. ‘Remember we’ve got a director’s visit tomorrow. Don’t be late.’
Regan pulled an unimpressed face. She didn’t like anyone telling her what to do and just because Alex was slightly older and squarer than her still did not give him that right.
‘Ah yes, it’s your big opportunity to impress,’ said Regan. Alex had been chosen to meet the visiting director and she hadn’t. Not that she was bothered – she wasn’t. But Alex was clearly making plans to improve his career prospects.
‘He’s meeting everyone,’ said Alex, breaking eye contact and chucking his stuff into his desk drawer.
‘Yeah, but you’re special.’ He glared at her. She did her best solemn Confucius impression. ‘Just remember the higher the monkey goes up the tree, the more it shows its bum.’ He took a swipe at her and she ran for the door.
Regan was still plotting her revenge on Alex as she walked through the market place en route to her car, which she had parked in the cheapest car park possible. The market traders were packing up for the day and she was astonished by the amount of waste she saw as the grocery stallholder piled up the veg he couldn’t sell next to the bins. He caught her staring at the racks of tomat
oes a little past their best.
‘Help yourself, love,’ he called to her. She thanked him but declined. Jarvis would not be impressed if she took home a crate of dodgy tomatoes, but it did seem like a terrible waste.
As soon as she opened the front door she could hear Jarvis tutting. He’d beaten her home. She went to check her watch and for the umpteenth time that day cursed that she’d left home without it. She didn’t know exactly what time it was, but she guessed he must have left work earlier than usual, probably just so he could beat her home and have something to moan about. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for some grovelling.
‘Hiya, you’re home early. I need to get straight on with the tidying,’ called Regan, scooting through the flat. She met Jarvis in the kitchen already shaking his head.
‘Regan, you promised you’d not leave my apartment in a state. And what did I come home to?’ It irritated her that he always managed to highlight that it was his place.
‘I was going to tidy up before you got back, but you’re early.’ She was trying to keep her cool, but the condescending look on his face was seriously annoying. ‘I’ll do it now.’
‘But it’s too late. I couldn’t bear it a moment longer, so I’ve tidied up your mess.’
This was the bit where he expected her to thank him. She wasn’t going to. ‘You didn’t have to. You could have come home at your usual time and there wouldn’t have been a mess.’
‘We both know that was never going to happen.’
‘Er, yes it was. Because I’m home now and that would have given me …’ she looked at her bare wrist again, ‘… shitting hell …’ she checked the kitchen clock, ‘… twenty-three minutes. I could easily have tidied up in twenty-three minutes, but as you chose to do it, I don’t need to. So we’re all good.’ She responded to his confused expression with a cheesy grin and went to have a shower. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand living with Jarvis and his endless irritating lectures. In the initial flush of a new relationship she’d ignored his quirks, but now they just seemed to grate on her.
Next morning, the sound of a car horn made Regan stir. She opened one eye. Jarvis wasn’t in bed. She stretched out and was dropping off again when a stab of conscience made her turn over and check the time. She blinked at the clock. ‘Shittity shittington!’ That couldn’t be right. She was seriously late for work and shitting Jarvis must have known and left her to her fate. Regan scrambled out of bed, keen not to repeat the carpet burn of yesterday. It would be another day without a morning shower, she thought, grabbing up her clothes from their floordrobe and dashing for the bathroom, tripping over Jarvis’s precious rug in the process. Bloody thing.
Despite her lateness, Regan never missed getting a coffee. It was the only breakfast she had, and she justified her coffee purchase because it was also a commitment she had made to Kevin. And, more importantly, she couldn’t face a day of terminal tedium at work without a decent shot of caffeine. She flew into the little coffee shop and found Penny was already on the case. Within minutes Regan had swiped her card, grabbed her tray of coffees and was heading for the sugar sachets.
‘New process,’ said Penny. ‘No more sugar in little packets because some buggers keep nicking them. There’s a sugar dispenser on the side.’
Regan was thrown by the new process. Trust Alex to have sodding sugar in his. She wrenched off the lid of his cup, tipped some in and quickly replaced the lid.
Kevin was outside, his hair and beard wet as they often were in the morning. She puzzled over why that was; she had no idea where he would go for a shower. The irony that he had had a shower and she hadn’t wasn’t lost on her.
‘Morning, Kevin,’ trilled Regan, her pace virtually a jog. ‘Morning, Elvis.’
Elvis barked his reply. The sound was loud enough to loosen her fillings and she very nearly threw the tray of coffees in the air. Kevin grabbed his quickly. ‘Thank you. Carpe diem.’
‘And you, Kevin,’ she called over her shoulder and she speed-walked in the direction of the office.
When she arrived, Alex was hovering by their desks wearing a smart white shirt, dark tie and khaki chinos. Regan smirked at his outfit. He was definitely trying to impress the management. She could see he was looking flustered as she approached. ‘I’m sorry. Jarvis is playing games. The shit let me sleep in.’
‘You could set an alarm clock,’ said Alex, pulling his coffee from the tray.
‘I don’t like—’ but Regan didn’t get to finish her sentence. Alex pulled the coffee from the tray and it got a few centimetres from the desk before the lid parted company with the cup. The cup bounced on the desk and, in spectacular fashion, doused the front of Alex’s trousers with hot coffee. Alex gulped in air, making a noise like a train braking. Regan tried hard to stifle her laughter, but it was too funny.
Chapter Three
Alex stared at the stain spreading across his trousers.
‘They’re very absorbent,’ said Regan, grabbing a box of tissues from the desk opposite. ‘At least it missed your keyboard.’
‘You utter cow.’ Alex’s voice was a low grumble.
Regan’s grin slid from her face. ‘What did I do?’
He pointed at his coffee-stained groin. ‘You did this on purpose.’
‘No, you did that all by yourself, pal.’ She shook her head. She understood he was cross, but she wasn’t taking the flack for something that wasn’t her fault.
‘You loosened the bloody lid!’
‘No, I di …’ Regan thought back to the new sugar process. ‘Ah, no. You see the sugar isn’t in the little packets any more—’
But Alex wasn’t listening. ‘Just because I kicked your pen in that meeting. You do this?’
She wished he’d stop pointing at his groin. Regan did feel a sense of responsibility, but she didn’t like his assumption that she was this vindictive.
‘It was an accident, Alex. You need to calm down.’
He opened his mouth to speak, but an office door opened at the other side of the room. Managers and the visiting director spilled out. ‘You’ll need to take my place. But then I’m sure that’s exactly what you planned.’
‘Shit. No. I’m not taking your place. Man up and say you spilled your coffee. I don’t want to go to some dull meeting,’ said Regan, throwing the soggy tissues in the bin.
Alex quickly sat down and wheeled himself under the desk to hide the large coffee stain. It was a smart move. He then leaned on his mouse mat and froze. Regan glanced in his direction. ‘What?’
Alex slowly lifted his arm to show that his once-pristine crisp white shirtsleeve now had a soggy brown coffee patch. ‘Whoops,’ said Regan, cringing. ‘Think I missed a bit.’
‘You are unbelievable,’ said Alex.
The herd of management made their way over. Thankfully, someone more ambitious than Regan led the discussion. Alex was quiet; he kept his lower half under his desk and intermittently scowled at Regan. She shrugged. It was unfortunate, but she couldn’t feel too guilty about it. It was only a meeting – it wasn’t like he’d missed the last lifeboat.
‘And Alex will be joining us to give an overview of the challenges he and his colleagues are facing with invoicing,’ said Nigel, with a confident nod in Alex’s direction. He seemed puzzled as to why Alex was facing the wrong way.
Alex twisted in his seat. ‘I, um …’ He frowned hard. ‘I think Regan should attend instead of me. She knows the department and its challenges as well as I do.’
‘Oh, well. Regan. Um. That’s …’ Nigel appeared to have developed a facial tic. Regan’s mouth lifted at the side. He was clearly dreading the thought of her being let loose in a meeting with the grown-ups.
The director tipped his head. ‘Regan is an unusual name. From Shakespeare, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Regan, surprised that he recognised it. Most people assumed it was her surname. ‘It’s from King Lear.’ Her mother had had ideas well above her station so had saddled her with a nam
e she felt was interesting and unusual. For Regan it was pretentious and annoying, but something she was lumbered with because she was too lazy to change it.
‘Excellent,’ he said. Nigel gave an uncertain smile of agreement. ‘We’ll see you later then, Regan.’
‘Can’t wait,’ she said, holding her smile in place as they filtered away. Once they were safely in the lift, she turned to Alex. ‘Ugh, thanks for that. I don’t …’ she began, but Alex got up and stormed off.
She decided she’d buy him a doughnut at lunchtime. That usually cheered him up. She’d get Kevin one too.
Her phone – which she’d remembered today – buzzed into life. It was Cleo on FaceTime. Without thinking, Regan answered it. ‘Hi.’
Despite hours on a flight, Cleo still looked perfectly coiffured. After a few minutes on the Isle of Wight ferry, Regan usually looked like she’d been mauled by hyenas.
‘This is the hotel,’ said Cleo, scanning the phone around a room about the same size as Jarvis’s entire flat.
‘What country?’
‘Dubai.’
‘Is that a bath in the bedroom?’ asked Regan, catching a glimpse as the camera moved past.
‘Jacuzzi bath. So I can lie here and admire the view.’ Cleo turned the camera and Regan took in the vibrant blue sea. ‘I’m on what they call the Palm.’
‘It’s amazing,’ said Regan, trying to stop her mouth from falling open. ‘What was business class like? Did you get—’ But her questioning was interrupted by a cough behind her. Regan turned to see Nigel scowling at her and running his fingers down his tie. It was the same tie he wore every day; that, or he had a whole rack of the same one at home, but Regan doubted from the iffy stains on it that that was the case. Nigel poked a finger at her phone. That was the trouble with FaceTime; it was on loudspeaker, so it had obviously alerted everyone around her and now they all looked like meerkats on parade. If only she’d remembered her ear buds.
‘Sorry, got to go.’ Regan hurriedly ended the call.
Meet Me at Pebble Beach: Part One – Out of the Blue Page 2