Chapter Ashleigh Fitch and Remy Hughes 2002 Aged 40 #4
What she hadn’t told the doctor was that as for so many aspects of her life, she just didn’t feel like she deserved to be a mum to a fabulous kid like Evie, and there it was, that tingling in her limbs and a feeling of being so overwhelmed, she thought she might topple.
Remy
Remy made the mistake of answering the call from her mother as she pulled into the business park.
‘Remy, are you there, love?’
‘Yes, sorry, was just parking the car.’ She locked her Vauxhall Corsa and shoved the keys in her handbag, staring at the building, knowing she had eight minutes to get inside and log on, her Nokia now resting under her chin.
‘It’s me, it’s Mum.’
‘Yep, I’ve told you before, Mum, your name comes up, so before I even answer I know it’s you!’
‘Yes, that’s right. Anyway . . .’ Her mum began to talk so slowly that Remy felt her blood speed up in her veins.
She needed to get to her chair and get that computer fired up.
‘. . . So, do you remember I told you last week about the newspaper going astray? Well, it turns out that the lad who delivers it has been dropping it at Mrs McFarland’s.
I asked her if he had, but she shook her head and trundled indoors, but I said to your dad, Mrs McFarland only usually has The People’s Friend and her hands had looked suspiciously full as I chatted to her—’
She cut her mother short. ‘Mum, I don’t want to be rude, but I have to go inside and start my shift.
Is everything okay? I told Midge about the outside tap.
’ She tried to pre-empt the reason for the call with the sole purpose of hurrying things along.
‘He’ll either get to it today or tomorrow or the weekend and he’ll let you know later about picking Bertie up. ’
‘Oh, smashing! Just a sec.’ She heard her mum shout out, ‘Dennis! Dennis! It’s Remy on the phone.
Midge is going to do the tap today or tomorrow or the weekend .
. .’ There was a silent pause. ‘Hang on, I’ll ask her.
’ Remy felt her jaw tense. ‘Your dad says does he have the washers or should he pick some up? He’s happy to go to B besides, she had everything she had ever wanted and more, a lovely, lovely life, happy to be with her husband and kids in their little bubble. ‘I’ll let you know what she says.’
‘Smashing!’ she offered with false enthusiasm, wondering how to break it to Midge that not only did he have the joy of spending time with Jamie at Sophie’s end-of-term fashion show this Friday, but now he’d also be required to be civil to her sister and her husband, who he’d recently nicknamed ‘Posh and Specs’.
Not that her brother-in-law wore glasses, but rather on account of the fact that he wore such garish shirts, mustard-coloured cords and braces, making him look like a ‘right old spectacle’.
It was mean, she knew, but still made her laugh.
‘Have a lovely day, little dove!’ Her mum, it seemed, was happy for her enthusiasm, false or not.
Rushing in, Remy bent awkwardly low and presented the pass around her neck to the turnstile entry, which beeped its approval, then waved to the security guard on reception, who always smiled, and raced across the foyer and up the stairs, scooting across the industrial royal-blue carpet and landing on her chair, earphones on, mouthpiece in position and computer logged on, all in the nick of time.
‘By the skin of your teeth, Remy Hughes.’
She dug deep and found a smile. Graham, her supervisor, had worked with her for the last five years, and had vaulted the hallowed line from colleague to boss with more self-satisfaction than if he’d climbed Everest, smashed a record, won gold at the Olympics or cured world famine.
Clearly, he was a man delighted by the perks of his junior managerial role; his very own allocated parking space, access to the early-bird insurance offers for family and friends, an annual invite to the manager’s Christmas dinner buffet that was held in a roped-off corner of the vast dining hall, and crucially, the right to stroll, hands behind his back, as he was wont to do, around the desks, paying particular attention to . . . everything!
His manner bothered her, bothered them all, not that there was much she could do about it. Midge had suggested she talk to HR, and she’d laughed at the thought.
‘And say what? You know Graham, who seems not to have a home to go to? The one who arrives early and leaves late, who makes sure I am at work on time and adhere to my breaks and that my call times are efficient? The one who’s always there with the right answer to any query, based on his extensive and detailed knowledge of our policies?
Yes, him, well, is there anything we can do about his revolting cardigans and his tone that borders on nasal? ’
‘You raise a good point,’ her husband had conceded. ‘Do you want me to punch him?’
She had sprayed her laughter over him. ‘You can’t do that in the workplace anymore. It’s a little frowned upon. There are rules.’
‘What?’ he’d scoffed. ‘Next you’ll be telling me I can’t send the kids up the chimney and that women can have the same pay as men! Where will it end?’
‘Yep.’ She gave Graham a weak double thumbs-up and placed her banana on the table, next to her water bottle.
‘Remember, no unsealed drink units on desks.’ He pointed towards her water.
‘It is sealed, Graham. As you can see, it’s a bottle with the lid firmly attached.’
‘No harm in reminding you.’ He fastened his hands behind his back, and she wondered if Midge’s offer was still on the table.
Tyler caught her eye and raised his eyebrows and lifted his chin in greeting without missing a beat of his call.
Tyler, who wore a shirt and tie even though there was no formal requirement to do so.
Tyler, who kept pens in his top pocket for just in case and jumped to life when a call came in.
Tyler, whose stats were impressive, the highest customer satisfaction score, the most calls taken and the winner of every bonus and incentive going.
To her certain knowledge he had enjoyed a golfing weekend, a giant Easter egg, and a couples massage at the local sports centre.
He was what Tony would have described as a right keener back in the day.
This thought alone was enough to make her smile and dilute the irritation of Graham’s lingering presence.
It was some small comfort that even though her lovely friend was on the other side of the world, he could still lift her mood.
It was nice to think back to those days, when she and Tony had danced and laughed and sung until their throats were hoarse. Before that night.
Oi! Still she heard this call at the most random of times, and still it was a gunshot and about as terrifying. That night when she had known the true meaning of fear, the very worst of times, and the very best too, because she had met Midge.
She wished Tyler would stop shouting. Yet to take a call, his energy made her somehow weary.
‘Now let’s see what we can do about that, Mrs Williams!’ He grinned.
He was so loud, almost as if this job were a performance and he was desperate to guarantee that even those in the cheap seats at the back could hear every word.
She liked to study him over the privacy board that offered none.
It sat between the two rows of facing desks like the Berlin Wall, only it was thinner, smaller, and upholstered with cheap, grey, hairy fabric.