making him itch to tell someone. He’s planning on sending off the application today, but he doesn’t trust himself, he wants a second opinion before he actually posts it through the mailbox next to the bus stop.
He wants to tell Jemima and Geraldine, he wants to know what they think, whether he stands a chance, whether they could see him on television, but he’s not entirely sure Geraldine can be trusted.
Jemima, he knows, wouldn’t breathe a word, and Geraldine, he suspects, wouldn’t intentionally repeat anything, but it may just come out by mistake, and he doesn’t want to risk word getting round the Kilburn Herald that he is looking for another job.
Also, Ben, not that it’s any of our business but isn’t it slightly bad karma to talk about a job before you get it?
So Ben keeps quiet, Jemima keeps quiet, too busy dreaming about tonight, and Geraldine rattles on about Dimitri, the boyfriend that was, although she hasn’t quite managed to tell him that yet.
They finish their lunch and walk to the elevator. Please, don’t forget, prays Jemima, don’t forget that we have a date tonight.
“So, shall we go straight from work?” Ben’s looking at me.
Damn. I promised that guy Brad that I’d meet him tonight and I suppose I could go “online” at Cyborg and talk to him from there, but Ben would be with me and I don’t want him looking over my shoulder. I have a choice here. Ben or Brad. As if there’s any question.
“Fine,” I say. “Definitely.”
“Great,” says Ben, smiling warmly at me, because, I suspect, even though he would prefer to be with Geraldine, he would never be mean enough to cancel me, not when we’ve made this arrangement.
p. 79 Later that afternoon Geraldine sends a message to my screen.
“Careful,” she says, “word might get out about you and Ben . . .”
“What do you mean?” I send back, knowing exactly what she means, and praying that it does somehow get out, because perhaps if people thought something was going on, something might, in fact, go on.
“You know what people are like round here. If they see you leaving together they might just jump to conclusions!” As if! Geraldine knows this would never happen with me. Yes, the Kilburn Herald is a hive of gossip, and anyone seen, ever, with a staff member of the opposite sex is immediately presumed to be having an affair. But nobody in their right mind would ever think I might be having an affair with Ben Williams. In my dreams, perhaps, but that ’ s about it.
“Oh please!” I write, playing along with Geraldine ’ s game. “He’s not my type!”
“What, with all those dimples, not to mention the gorgeous hair that always flops in exactly the right place? Are you serious?”
It’s not always in exactly the right place, and so what if it’s floppy? It’s gorgeous. Bitch.
“Absolutely.” I type back. “We’re just friends.”
“Well, have a nice friendly time then, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do . . .”
At six o’clock I am so excited I’m practically bursting. I’ve been to the bathroom, I’ve put on some makeup, although truth to be told I can’t really see any difference, and I’m sitting at my desk trying to stop the urge to jump around the room.
I’m sorry, Brad who?
And then Ben walks over and as soon as I see him at the other end of the room I know he’s going to cancel me. How? He hasn’t put his jacket on, his sleeves are rolled up, and he looks tense and worried. Shit.
p. 80 “Are you ready?” I say nervously, knowing full well he’s about to say he’s not coming.
“I’m really sorry, Jemima,” says Ben, and to give him some credit he looks as if he means it. “I’ve just been given a story to do on edition. I’m going to be here all night.”
“Don’t worry.” False gaiety brightens up my voice. “We can go another time. I’ve got loads to do at home tonight anyway.” Like watch television. Read. Listen to music.
“I’m sorry.”
He wants to tell Jemima and Geraldine, he wants to know what they think, whether he stands a chance, whether they could see him on television, but he’s not entirely sure Geraldine can be trusted.
Jemima, he knows, wouldn’t breathe a word, and Geraldine, he suspects, wouldn’t intentionally repeat anything, but it may just come out by mistake, and he doesn’t want to risk word getting round the Kilburn Herald that he is looking for another job.
Also, Ben, not that it’s any of our business but isn’t it slightly bad karma to talk about a job before you get it?
So Ben keeps quiet, Jemima keeps quiet, too busy dreaming about tonight, and Geraldine rattles on about Dimitri, the boyfriend that was, although she hasn’t quite managed to tell him that yet.
They finish their lunch and walk to the elevator. Please, don’t forget, prays Jemima, don’t forget that we have a date tonight.
“So, shall we go straight from work?” Ben’s looking at me.
Damn. I promised that guy Brad that I’d meet him tonight and I suppose I could go “online” at Cyborg and talk to him from there, but Ben would be with me and I don’t want him looking over my shoulder. I have a choice here. Ben or Brad. As if there’s any question.
“Fine,” I say. “Definitely.”
“Great,” says Ben, smiling warmly at me, because, I suspect, even though he would prefer to be with Geraldine, he would never be mean enough to cancel me, not when we’ve made this arrangement.
p. 79 Later that afternoon Geraldine sends a message to my screen.
“Careful,” she says, “word might get out about you and Ben . . .”
“What do you mean?” I send back, knowing exactly what she means, and praying that it does somehow get out, because perhaps if people thought something was going on, something might, in fact, go on.
“You know what people are like round here. If they see you leaving together they might just jump to conclusions!” As if! Geraldine knows this would never happen with me. Yes, the Kilburn Herald is a hive of gossip, and anyone seen, ever, with a staff member of the opposite sex is immediately presumed to be having an affair. But nobody in their right mind would ever think I might be having an affair with Ben Williams. In my dreams, perhaps, but that ’ s about it.
“Oh please!” I write, playing along with Geraldine ’ s game. “He’s not my type!”
“What, with all those dimples, not to mention the gorgeous hair that always flops in exactly the right place? Are you serious?”
It’s not always in exactly the right place, and so what if it’s floppy? It’s gorgeous. Bitch.
“Absolutely.” I type back. “We’re just friends.”
“Well, have a nice friendly time then, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do . . .”
At six o’clock I am so excited I’m practically bursting. I’ve been to the bathroom, I’ve put on some makeup, although truth to be told I can’t really see any difference, and I’m sitting at my desk trying to stop the urge to jump around the room.
I’m sorry, Brad who?
And then Ben walks over and as soon as I see him at the other end of the room I know he’s going to cancel me. How? He hasn’t put his jacket on, his sleeves are rolled up, and he looks tense and worried. Shit.
p. 80 “Are you ready?” I say nervously, knowing full well he’s about to say he’s not coming.
“I’m really sorry, Jemima,” says Ben, and to give him some credit he looks as if he means it. “I’ve just been given a story to do on edition. I’m going to be here all night.”
“Don’t worry.” False gaiety brightens up my voice. “We can go another time. I’ve got loads to do at home tonight anyway.” Like watch television. Read. Listen to music.
“I’m sorry.”
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