- must go, booked in for a facial …’
Great. So I was going to bring the poor, non beautiful, non-glamorous colour to the event. And a man Snowy assumed would be a bricklayer or an accountant or something.
The phone went again. I nearly said, ‘Piss off, Snowy,’ but stopped myself just in time.
‘Alex?’ asked a familiar voice. ‘Alex, is that you? Tom Drummond here. How are you?’
‘I’m just great, Tom,’ I said chirpily, and then I burst into tears.
Tom made me go outside and ring him from a payphone, so he could call me back. ‘You are entitled to a lunch break, Alex. Honestly.’
I poured out the sorry story, or some of it anyway. Between sobs, I heard Tom being sympathetic. Not girly, but sympathetic.
‘You’re just too much of a romantic, Alex, you want the hearts and flowers all the time. Give the guy a chance.., he’ll probably ask you out again,’ Tom said calmly.
‘But he didn’t want to go to work smelling of me.’ ‘He’s not married, is he? Or. you work with him?’ ‘Of course n.ot!’ I said indignantly.
‘Oh good - for a second I thought you were going to be back to your old tricks.’
‘What old tricks?’ I demanded. At least being annoyed meant I wasn’t snivelling any more.
‘You know, .Alex, the way you always fall for these charming bastards who don’t value you, and make you “
87
feel small. You have fantasy crushes on fantasy people.’
‘That’s not true!’ I said. Seamus was real, wasn’t he? How much more real could that wavy black hair be, that lilting voice, that passionate stare!
‘Well,’ Tom sighed, ‘what about that ludicrous director with the pink ties and the hair that needed cutting?’
‘Oliver was an artist.’
‘Nothing wrong with Oliver that a bloody good flogging and six months in the Marines wouldn’t cure,’ Tom grunted, as though he would personally like to be in charge of the flogging. Then he sighed again and devoted twenty minutes to making me feel better about
‘ myself.
‘We must meet up for lunch,’ he said when he’d finished.
‘OK.’ I actually wanted to go, I found. Tom was such a laugh, and he would be shovelling food into his mouth at such a rate that I would be bound to feel slim by comparison.
‘Next week?’ Tom asked hopefully. ‘Don’t suppose you’re free?’
‘I’ll check my diary and give you a bell,’ I managed, without cracking up. Free! My diary was as empty a.s Sister Wendy’s love life.
I slunk back into the office and worked on my files. Tom made me at least feel things weren’t my fault, but it didn’t really help, how could it? The fact was that Seamus had been cold this morning and he hadn’t talked to me all day.
Towards the end of the day Jenny came to find me.
‘You must have done all right with Mr Mahon
yesterday. He didn’t have .any complaints today.’
‘No?’ I asked eagerly.
‘No,’ said Jenny, ‘he didn’t mention you at all. Why
88
do you look so depressed? Dear me, you’ve been very
irritable today, Alexandra. Do you feel quite well?’ ‘Never better,’ I said gloomily.
Jenny gave me a long stare. ‘He hasn’t, been upsetting you, has he? Mr Mahon I mean. He can be .. bothersome. You know you can talk to me about it, if you wish.’
And do you know, I had an insane urge to confide in
her. Actually to spill the beans. To Jenny Robins! ‘He’s been fine,’ I told her. ‘Really.’
‘You do a good job, Alexandra,’ Jenny said to my amazement. ‘Don’t put up with any nonsense. Anyway. Better get back to work. I have to leave early.’
‘You do?’ I said, gutted. I didn’t want to face Seamus on my own. What would I say? He clearly didn’t want to know.
‘Yes, but Mr Mahon has said he can handle his own phones for the last ten minutes, so you just finish up in here.’
It was a godsend. When Jenny le:, I stayed barricaded in my fortress, filing. Sometimes I would glance up and see Seamus watching me from
Great. So I was going to bring the poor, non beautiful, non-glamorous colour to the event. And a man Snowy assumed would be a bricklayer or an accountant or something.
The phone went again. I nearly said, ‘Piss off, Snowy,’ but stopped myself just in time.
‘Alex?’ asked a familiar voice. ‘Alex, is that you? Tom Drummond here. How are you?’
‘I’m just great, Tom,’ I said chirpily, and then I burst into tears.
Tom made me go outside and ring him from a payphone, so he could call me back. ‘You are entitled to a lunch break, Alex. Honestly.’
I poured out the sorry story, or some of it anyway. Between sobs, I heard Tom being sympathetic. Not girly, but sympathetic.
‘You’re just too much of a romantic, Alex, you want the hearts and flowers all the time. Give the guy a chance.., he’ll probably ask you out again,’ Tom said calmly.
‘But he didn’t want to go to work smelling of me.’ ‘He’s not married, is he? Or. you work with him?’ ‘Of course n.ot!’ I said indignantly.
‘Oh good - for a second I thought you were going to be back to your old tricks.’
‘What old tricks?’ I demanded. At least being annoyed meant I wasn’t snivelling any more.
‘You know, .Alex, the way you always fall for these charming bastards who don’t value you, and make you “
87
feel small. You have fantasy crushes on fantasy people.’
‘That’s not true!’ I said. Seamus was real, wasn’t he? How much more real could that wavy black hair be, that lilting voice, that passionate stare!
‘Well,’ Tom sighed, ‘what about that ludicrous director with the pink ties and the hair that needed cutting?’
‘Oliver was an artist.’
‘Nothing wrong with Oliver that a bloody good flogging and six months in the Marines wouldn’t cure,’ Tom grunted, as though he would personally like to be in charge of the flogging. Then he sighed again and devoted twenty minutes to making me feel better about
‘ myself.
‘We must meet up for lunch,’ he said when he’d finished.
‘OK.’ I actually wanted to go, I found. Tom was such a laugh, and he would be shovelling food into his mouth at such a rate that I would be bound to feel slim by comparison.
‘Next week?’ Tom asked hopefully. ‘Don’t suppose you’re free?’
‘I’ll check my diary and give you a bell,’ I managed, without cracking up. Free! My diary was as empty a.s Sister Wendy’s love life.
I slunk back into the office and worked on my files. Tom made me at least feel things weren’t my fault, but it didn’t really help, how could it? The fact was that Seamus had been cold this morning and he hadn’t talked to me all day.
Towards the end of the day Jenny came to find me.
‘You must have done all right with Mr Mahon
yesterday. He didn’t have .any complaints today.’
‘No?’ I asked eagerly.
‘No,’ said Jenny, ‘he didn’t mention you at all. Why
88
do you look so depressed? Dear me, you’ve been very
irritable today, Alexandra. Do you feel quite well?’ ‘Never better,’ I said gloomily.
Jenny gave me a long stare. ‘He hasn’t, been upsetting you, has he? Mr Mahon I mean. He can be .. bothersome. You know you can talk to me about it, if you wish.’
And do you know, I had an insane urge to confide in
her. Actually to spill the beans. To Jenny Robins! ‘He’s been fine,’ I told her. ‘Really.’
‘You do a good job, Alexandra,’ Jenny said to my amazement. ‘Don’t put up with any nonsense. Anyway. Better get back to work. I have to leave early.’
‘You do?’ I said, gutted. I didn’t want to face Seamus on my own. What would I say? He clearly didn’t want to know.
‘Yes, but Mr Mahon has said he can handle his own phones for the last ten minutes, so you just finish up in here.’
It was a godsend. When Jenny le:, I stayed barricaded in my fortress, filing. Sometimes I would glance up and see Seamus watching me from
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