The Night That Changed Everything by Laura Tait and Jimmy Rice Page B

desk.
    â€˜Oyster cards, debit cards – the world is going contactless.’
    That’s true enough: Rebecca has been completely contactless since Saturday night.
    â€˜But seriously, what happens to the staff?’ I say. ‘I mean, you have to look into whether they can be reposted, and you’ll need to go through consultation, possibly with Acas, and because the numbers of redundancies might be quite high we’ll probably have to inform the relevant government departments, and obviously there’s industrial action to think about, and—’
    â€˜The directors are coming in on Friday – do you think you’d be able to come up with a document on all this for then?’
    â€˜Friday?’
    It’s doubtful I’ll be able to get anything comprehensive down on paper by then, especially with my head as it is, but I badly want to get back to my phone, so I nod and tell him
Yeah, no problem
.
    â€˜One more thing,’ says Richardson, standing to accompany me from his office. ‘You’re looking very smart again today, I like it.’
    I always thought Jamie and I dressed pretty similarly but apparently not.
    â€˜Ta.’
    There are no texts and no emails waiting for me when I go back to my desk. I check the time. One hour and forty-seven minutes of the working day without making contact. Benjamin Franklin would be proud, I think to myself as I walk towards the door, sensing Russ and Tom following me with concerned eyes.
    Once outside, I press my thumb on Rebecca’s name in my phone and smile politely at Michelle from Accounts, who is standing by the revolving doors smoking a cigarette. I walk down the street for privacy.
    You’ve reached the voicemail of Rebecca Giamboni. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you.
    I close my eyes at the sound of her voice, remembering the conversation we had after the first time I heard her voicemail. I told her Voicemail Rebecca was a bit curt, and she joked that she couldn’t speak right now and I should leave a message after the tone. Then when I started talking again she cut me off with a
beeeep
, just like the one I’m listening to now.
    â€˜Becs, it’s me. I love you, I miss you. Call me back.’
    I’m lolled on the couch, music drifting from my phone, which hasn’t buzzed all afternoon, when I hear a key in the door.
    â€˜I thought you were working tonight?’ I say.
    â€˜Thought you might appreciate the company.’ Jamie puts down a plastic bag and starts leafing through his post. ‘You heard from her yet?’
    I shake my head. ‘I feel like my life is on hold.’
    â€˜In which case . . .’ He discards some junk mail into the bin and points an accusatory finger towards my phone. ‘. . . can we change the hold music? This is fucking depressing.’
    â€˜It’s Damien Rice – one of the best—’
    â€˜It’s wank, is what it is.’
    Jamie comes over and snatches my phone.
    â€˜This from the fella who has a signed Chas ’n’ Dave disc on his living-room wall,’ I say.
    He returns to the worktop, picks up the plastic bag and dangles it in the air. ‘Thought we could have a beer by the river?’
    I’d wanted to keep a clear head in case Rebecca calls back, and it’s getting dark, but he has taken the night off, and got beers.
    We take up a position on the concrete bank just outside his apartment, legs dangling half a metre above the water. Jamie pulls two cans from the plastic bag, tossing one into my waiting hands.
    â€˜Where’d you get to last night?’ I ask.
    It was past three a.m. when I heard the door.
    â€˜Lock-in.’ He pulls the tab and takes a long first sip. ‘With Tidy Tania.’
    â€˜While her boyfriend was . . . ?’
    â€˜They’ve split up,’ he says neutrally. ‘She wanted to come back here.’
    â€˜And you didn’t because . . . ?’
    He