A few days later, no more fainting, but I’d exhausted myself by arranging for my best-friend tier to go to a fireworks display. The thinking behind it was that friend activities might make me feel a bit more myself, but so far I was feeling more social secretary and mediator than anything. Darcy, Cassandra, and Kyazike have all individually surpassed themselves when it comes to support recently, mainly just by allowing me to text and text and text, though I was beginning to worry that it was all a bit of a Queenie show at the moment. I don’t want my friends to think they exist purely to listen to me talk about how much of a joke my life is.
THE CORGIS
Kyazike
Is it gonna b cold
Cassandra
Well, it’s November, so probably.
Kyazike
KMT you know what I mean. Is it gonna b cold for November
Cassandra
Shall I rework what I said? Probably, yes.
Darcy
It’s going to be 4 degrees! So we should all wrap up! I’ve got a spare pair of gloves if you need them, Kyazike
Kyazike
LOL you’re all right
Cassandra
Well there’s no point in refusing something you need.
Kyazike
I don’t need them, I’m asking if it’s gonna b cold
Darcy
Either way, they’re there if you want them!
Queenie
Gloves and weather aside, this is going to be a nice evening, I hope you’re all excited. Meet at 6 outside Crystal Palace station?
Kyazike
Can’t do 6
Cassandra
There’s a surprise. When can you do?
Kyazike
Queenie, beg you tell your girl to relax pls
Queenie
She doesn’t mean anything by it, Kyazike
Darcy
Shall we say 6:30?
Kyazike
6:30 I can do but I’ll meet you lot outside the park, I’m not walking down that big piece of hill to the station just to walk back up to the park again
Needing a break from the most stressful group chat I’d ever been in, I ambled over to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
On the way back, I saw Ted striding across my floor, a vision in tweed, and glasses on this time. My heart did a little leap when I remembered how strong his hands felt when he was holding me up. I sat back at my desk, opened up a new e-mail window, and began to type.
“Tea?” I turned around at the same time as trying to minimize the e-mail window. Darcy leaned over me and peered at my screen. “Who are you e-mailing ‘Well, don’t be a stranger’ to?” she asked.
“Nobody!” I spluttered. “I mean, no, somebody. The freelancer who used to come in on Tuesdays! I was going to see if she wanted to come in and do a few more shifts.” I turned the screen off. “Energy saving,” I said.
“Careful. Bit of an inappropriate thing to say to a colleague,” Darcy said. “Anyway, I thought I’d come over to tell you in person that I’ll have to stay here a bit late, since you’ve stopped replying to the Corgis. Gina needs me to sort something. It’s amazing, these bosses call all the shots but are flummoxed by the smallest technological advances.” She ran a hand through her hair agitatedly and walked away.
On Friday, 2nd November, Noman, Ted <[email protected]> wrote at 14:04:
Here she is. What are you doing after work? Fancy a quick one? . . . a drink.
I felt a pop of excitement in my stomach and typed out a reply that showed as much before deleting it and replacing it with something a bit less keen.
On Friday, 2nd November, Jenkins, Queenie <[email protected]> wrote at 14:10:
Yeah, I got that, thanks. Good to see that your need to be corny hasn’t subsided.
On Friday, 2nd November, Noman, Ted <[email protected]> wrote at 14:15:
Ouch. Okay, must try harder. But that drink?
On Friday, 2nd November, Jenkins, Queenie <[email protected]> wrote at 14:25:
Only if it’s very quick. I’ll have to sneak out at five, and can stay forty-five minutes max. I’ve spent weeks convincing my friends to go to a fireworks display and can’t be the one to cancel, you see.
On Friday, 2nd November, Noman, Ted <[email protected]> wrote at 14:30:
Fine by me, I’ve got a dinner to go to. See you at the pub next to the church?
At half past four, I ran around the office asking different colleagues for various makeup products. Being the only black girl in the office, I had to make do with liquid eyeliner from Zainab in digital and some mascara from Josey, the antisocial Iranian girl in the music department, and had to ask Darcy for blusher, even though I knew it would be imperceptible even when seven layers were applied to my cheeks. “Why do you need blusher? It’s going to be dark in the park.” Darcy’s solution-driven way of thinking wasn’t always welcome.
“I just need it, I want to look nice,” I said. “Boosting my self-confidence and all that.”
“You already do look nice. Where are you going?”
“I feel like you’re being suspicious?” I said to her. Darcy looked back at me and raised her eyebrows. “Fine. That guy from sports, the one in all the tweed and the glasses, he e-mailed saying that he wants to go for a very quick drink.”
“Like a flirty drink?” Darcy asked. “What about all of your promises?”
“Well, yes, you’re right, but I think it’s fine to go for a drink with a colleague?” I said unconvincingly.
“Okay. Well. Be careful. You don’t want to dip your nib in the office ink,” she said, handing me the blusher. “And don’t forget about the fireworks!”
“I wouldn’t, not after all the work I’ve put into getting you all in one place at one time.” I rolled my eyes and applied more blusher. “If Gina asks where I am, say I had a small family emergency.”
“Queenie. You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” Darcy asked me solemnly. “I don’t want to be all Jonathan Jobsworth, but if you get fired, they can replace you with a hundred other girls like us.”
“Oh, so I’m dispensable?” I snorted to cover how hard I’d been hit by the truth in her words. “It’s only half an hour.”
“Yeah, but it’s also been the last couple of weeks.”
“Darcy. I’m good at my job, and I like my job, and I want to be better at my job, and I will be. This is just a welcome distraction.” I maintained my smile, not wanting to fall out with my best friend at the worst point possible. “Are you keeping track of me?”
“Not keeping track of you, but trying to remind you what else you can lose.”
“I haven’t lost anything, and I’m not going to lose anything,” I reassured Darcy as I walked away.
* * *
When I got to the pub, I tried to find a seat outside that was both dry and somewhere discreet, as about ten of the senior men from my office were already dotted around and giving me eyebrows whenever I squeezed past them to look for a table. Nothing met my desired criteria, and when Ted got to the pub and we bought our drinks, we ended up standing next to a wet table. We chatted for ages, at first tentatively, and then quickly, excitedly, with his hand inching across the table closer to mine.
“So, how do you like the building?” I could feel myself doing the doe-eyed thing.
“Yeah, I like it. There are a lot of secret rooms too. Have you explored?” he asked me, his little finger brushing mine.
“Huh?” I asked, heat rushing through my body. “What?”
“I said, the building, have you explored?” Ted repeated, his voice dropping to a sultry rumble.
Tom flashed into my head and I drew my hand back. “No, I haven’t! How’s your commute, though?” I tried to derail the conversation from the track it definitely shouldn’t have been on.
“Right, yeah, good commute,” Ted said, visibly confused. “When I do nights, I’ve got to get the bus from Hackney. But I’m hard, so I can handle it.”
“Oh, am I meant to laugh at that?” I smirked, feeling my face cool down. He truly wasn’t very funny but:
1. Apart from Kyazike, who is ten times as funny as me, I don’t find anyone as funny as me, even in this, the darkest period of my life.