by Jo Edwards
George’s deputy! That was strange; I wonder why she’d made that decision? Was it because of her feelings for me? Did she think our relationship compromised her position as team deputy? My heart beat a little faster and I almost forgot I had a customer on hold; luckily they’d only been waiting for eleven minutes. Cathy sent an email round entitled “Who’s next under George?” I noticed that she hadn’t copied Lucy in, which I thought was very considerate of her.
I really ought to tell Lucy about Manchester before she grew too attached to me. It was only fair. Would she wait for me? And when was I going to tell Myra? It would have to be after opening night; we needed to focus on that now. Nothing from Dad yet but I’d sent him a ticket – fingers crossed he could make it. Drat, why had I put this customer on hold? I couldn’t remember now; I’d have to ask them.
The Chief Executive frightened the life out of me. He was absolutely huge, with a loud, booming northern voice and an angry-looking face. There was a whole pack of other visitors who followed him around the department. I overheard him bark at one of them, “Make yourself useful, whoever you are and get me a brew; none of that flowery shite mind, I’m not a bleedin’ poofter.” I kept my head down when they came to our team. Kate introduced him to George, but the Chief Exec ignored him and instead went over to Lucy, asking if she would talk him through the figures on the white board. Poor Lucy! She was ever so brave and must have done really well because he spent absolutely ages with her, even smiling several times. He said, “Aye, that were fookin’ great.” and pumped Kate’s hand when he left.
As luck would have it, I found myself practically bumping into Lucy when I was coming out of the Gents and she was just heading to the Ladies. I said “well done” for making the Chief Executive so happy and asked “he’s based in Manchester, isn’t he?”
Lucy replied, “I think so, why?” I took a deep breath and told her I might be moving there soon, to run a company with my father. She said “Oh” and vanished into the Ladies. I felt absolutely wretched; that poor girl, she must be heart-broken. Should I follow her in to see if she was ok? As I hovered undecided outside the Ladies, Cathy burst out of them and boomed, “You can’t use these yet, Foggy, you’re still pre-op aren’t you? Ha ha ha!” I turned away, face on fire. Honestly - Cathy could be a little boorish sometimes.
Northern lights
I cycled home like mad every evening to see if Dad had replied, but nothing arrived. I sent him another ticket for the opening night on Saturday, just in case the first one had got lost in the post. I checked to make sure Mum was coming and she said, “Oh yes, er, well, probably – is there a bar?” I told her there was an after show party for close friends and family with wine and nibbles. Granny Pattern was coming and hopefully Auntie Trisha and Biffa, if they were back from their honeymoon in Hull. Would Dad make it? Why hadn’t he written? Or had he gone quiet so he could surprise me by just turning up on the night? That must be it! Typical Dad! He always loved surprising people, like the time he’d changed his job and not even told Mum! She got the shock of her life when she saw him in the high street dressed in his Asda Security Guard uniform – she thought he still worked at Countrywide Estate Agents!
I couldn’t keep still at work on Friday; I was so excited about the opening night and seeing Dad, plus I thought if I moved about a lot my back would loosen up and hold out for the performance. The team fell very quiet at one point during the morning and I glanced up to see Kate leading Lucy away in the direction of the meeting room. We all looked round at each other. What was going on? Jess whispered, “Well, Lucy has been off sick a lot, you know. George tries to cover up her absence figures but I reckon Kate’s found out. I bet Lucy’s for the high jump.” I stared at Jess in horror.
“No! They can’t just sack her, can they? Can’t you help her, like you did with me? You were brilliant in that meeting.”
Jess sniffed. “Why would I want to help Golden Girl? She’s always so up herself; nah, tough titties. She’s on her own.”
I could never make out if Jess and Lucy were friends or not. Just that morning I’d seen on Facebook that Jess had posted to Lucy “Luvvin your hair today babe! It looks gawjus.” It must be very complicated being a woman.
Lucy eventually reappeared looking flushed. I really admired the way she’d managed to compose herself after I told her about Manchester; she was always so professional. She sat down at her desk and put her headset back on. That was great to see; at least she hadn’t been sacked.
I met Barry at lunchtime for a burger and decided to tell him about Dad and Manchester, although I didn’t mention the £600 investment as Barry never had any money and it didn’t seem kind to gloat about it.
“Well, that’s a turn up, Fogster, I must say! Good on yer, getting out of this bloody dump. And they never actually proved anything against your old man, did they? What are you gonna do about Jabba? Have you got to take her with you or can you ditch her somewhere along the M6?”
“I’m going to finish with Myra,” I said, gloomily. “I know she’ll be really upset and I hate the thought of that but I can’t ask her to wait around for me. It wouldn’t be fair. Who knows where this thing with Dad will take me.”
“Bloody hell, give me some warning first, will you? I don’t want to be around when she goes off. I saw her the other day in Subway and all I said to her was “you look well”. She screamed, “You mean fat, don’t you, you sizist bastard!” and went for me with a footlong Chicken Temptation. Those crusty whites bloody hurt, you know!”
“She’ll understand it’s for the best,” I muttered, not even convincing myself. When was I going to tell her? Maybe at the after show party; at least her Mum would be there to comfort her. And it might be safer in a public place…
Friday afternoon and customer calls were dropping off. George called us together for a quick team briefing. He read out our performance figures for the week but nobody ever listens to those. He told us Kate had been very pleased with the Chief Executive’s visit and had received some great feedback. I beamed proudly at Lucy, but she had her head down, scrolling through her text messages.
“Er, there was one other thing,” began George, a bit awkwardly. “It’s just to say that Lucy will be leaving the team.” What? Everyone stared at Lucy. “Yes,” continued George. “She’s been offered a job in Manchester. At head office, no less. And she’s decided to take it.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Lucy was moving to Manchester! It was so she could be with me! Oh my God, this was fantastic news.
“Are you alright, Foggy?” asked George. “Your mouth is hanging open.”
“I didn’t see any positions in head office advertised,” chipped in Cathy, sounding annoyed.
“Er, I think the Chief Exec created a special position for Lucy-”
“What’s that then, missionary?” Cathy seemed to have a beef about something but I didn’t listen to the rest of the argument that ensued. Lucy was moving to Manchester to be with me. Lucy and me, Dad and our company – it was just too good to be true! I cycled home on cloud nine.
Opening Night
Shaking with nervous excitement, I peeped out from behind the curtain to scan the audience who almost filled the chairs in Jubilee Hall. I could see Auntie Trisha and Biffa in the front row, and there was Mum trying to get Granny Pattern to put her Fifty Shades away. Jess and Cathy from work were in the second row, giggling at something on their phones. Where was Dad? Not here yet. He did have a long journey, of course. Myra’s mum was there too; that was good. I was going to tell Myra at the party. I couldn’t put if off any longer, especially as she kept asking when I would be getting another bonus and looking at holidays on Teletext.
Behind me there were screams as Barry went round with a bicycle pump, sticking it up the skirts of the Pink Ladies. Nervous Noel was back to play Eugene, but couldn’t get his fly done up and was running round in a panic trying to get someone to help him, which just created more screams. Myra had started to practice her vocals but To
m had to stop her because the vibration was making the lighting flicker. Thin Lizzie looked extremely nervous, and I noticed Tom giving her lots of encouraging hugs. Frankie Trevino was twitchy and kept touching his nose and rolling his head from side to side. I smiled and nodded at him but he just stared back and pointed his comb rather threateningly at me.
I looked back out at the audience. It was almost time. But I still couldn’t see Dad.
I clutched my orange juice as I listened to Granny Pattern telling me about her boil. She’d bought two cushions to sit on, apparently, but that didn’t seem to have helped. Friends and family of the cast were milling around sipping wine and munching cheese straws. The show had been an absolute triumph and apart from Tom’s wife storming the stage in the middle of ‘Hopelessly Devoted’ brandishing a banner that had SANDY IS A MARRIAGE WRECKER emblazoned across it, everything had gone pretty much according to plan. I’d remembered all my words and dance moves, and my back had held up well. The therma heat wrap had slipped down to my ankles at the end of Greased Lightning but I don’t think anyone had noticed. I’d managed to duck out of the way of Frankie Trevino’s comb, which hit the wall with such force it