Chapter 19
Simone woke to the sound of the cooker beeping. It took her a while to orient herself. She reached out for her phone, then it all came back to her, the cogs turning. She’d lugged the bags of reports all the way to the underground, only to get there and realise Gayle still had her mobile. She’d endured a whole evening without it. It was like a piece of her had been removed, reminding her of when her mother threw away her favourite teddy, telling her it was childish to still want one past a certain age. It had been the first time she’d realised an absence of something could feel as solid and unyielding as its presence.
She wondered if Gayle had kept the phone deliberately. It meant that the bags of papers had been harder to avoid the previous evening, winking at her from the kitchen surface as she refilled her wine glass. On the third visit to the refrigerator, she’d relented, dragging them into the lounge and spreading the contents across her rug. She was still reading when the streetlight flicked on outside her window, illuminating the pages, but not dissipating the gloom that lay within them. Something unfamiliar had lodged in her chest, an unwelcome squatter that once let in couldn’t be moved on. Shame. The concern on Gayle’s face when she’d burst in that door had been genuine. Reading these reports, she could understand why. Suicide was the second most common cause of death in homeless people. Not sickness. Not drugs. Self-annihilation. And she knew all about that.
She traipsed to the kitchen to turn off the cooker timer and flicked the radio on. Two perky DJs were asking listeners to text in and tell them what their favourite colour was. She changed the channel.
She’d showered and dressed and was fixing herself a smoothie when the travel report came on. Her tube line was closed. Replacement buses. Expect delays. Blah blah blah. She was going to have to take the car. She instinctively looked around for her phone, then cursed herself for her conditioning. That meant no satnav, which would make things tricky. She fetched her laptop, powered it on, saw the blue screen of death as it told her it was undertaking a software update, and reached for her phone to see what time it was, only to again remember that she didn’t have it. The cooker clock told her she had an hour. It would take at least half an hour, possibly three-quarters, given the extra traffic. She was cutting it fine before she’d need to leave. She checked the computer. Only twenty percent completed. What the hell was it updating into? Optimus Prime? She considered hitting it with a brick, but restrained herself long enough for it to complete its pointless machinations and enable her to print off the directions, like people used to in the Dark Ages.
Luckily the gods had decided she’d eaten enough shit for one morning, and she was relieved to see an available space in the car park, albeit by the filthy car that appeared to have been pulled from the seabed. It was one minute to nine. She opened the door a little too vigorously and it banged against the Mary Celeste next to her. The window inched down, dirt accumulating on the perished rubber seals, and Hozan’s eyes peered out at her. Was he living in his car? She scanned what little was visible through the gap, and sure enough was met with a panorama that looked exactly like that. Despite the fact that he was wearing a hat, which surely meant she was off the hook for stealing it, he slowly reached across to the passenger seat where his camera was sitting. She didn’t wait for him to turn it on.
* * *
‘I’m sorry I’m late.’
It was two minutes past nine and Jasper and Gayle were in the office.
‘It’s learning,’ said Gayle, like she was some kind of AI. ‘It understands humility.’
‘I made you a tea,’ said Jasper, pointing to a cup on his desk.
‘Oh. Thanks.’
For some reason she’d expected a run-in, but Gayle seemed too preoccupied by a spreadsheet on her screen.
‘I wondered if I might take Steve to the benefits office this afternoon,’ Simone said.
Jasper tried to suppress a smile.
‘It doesn’t mean I want to be here,’ she said quickly.
‘You think any of us do?’ said Gayle. ‘Here. You might need this.’ She pulled open a desk drawer and passed her the phone. ‘It’s been pinging like Babs Windsor’s bra in a Carry On movie.’
There were no messages of any importance; just a neighbourly WhatsApp group banging on about bins and a missing cat, and one for an exercise class she never made it to. She passed it back.
‘Perhaps you could keep hold of it until later.’
‘Bleeding hell.’ Gayle’s eyes widened. ‘Now it’s trying to problem solve!’
‘I guess if you feed it with enough data,’ said Jasper.
‘Still in the room,’ she said.
‘You can take Steve,’ said Gayle, ‘but be warned, you’ll have a nightmare.’
‘It can’t be that hard.’
Gayle laughed bitterly. ‘Tell you what. If the money comes through before your time is up, I’ll give you the rest of your stint off for good behaviour.’
‘You can do that?’
‘I can do whatever I like.’ She went back to her screen. ‘And besides, it’s not like we can’t do without you. You’re about as much use as a garden gnome.’
If Gayle had been holding a mic, she’d have dropped it, but Simone didn’t care. If there was the tiniest chance to make it out of here sooner than anticipated, she’d take any piss-taking Gayle could throw at her.