“Hurrah!” I am triumphant. “We’re in!”
The normally buzzing reception is bizarrely silent, like a mythical beast that is sleeping but with twinkling security lights on its face.
“So what are we doing in here, anyway?” Artemis follows me jubilantly up the stairs, two at a time. “How did we get in? Did we break in? Oh my God, are we criminals? This is so fun. I always knew I’d go to jail one day, but I didn’t think it would be for robbing an office block in Soho.”
“We didn’t break in. You literally just watched me use a key card.”
“Oh, yeah.” Art trips up a stair. “My bad. Forgot.”
“Our boss likes to encourage flexible working,” I explain as we enter the office itself. “He thinks it cultivates a work hard, play hard environment.”
Swaying slightly, we both stare at the empty room. I guess nearly midnight on a Monday falls into the play category. The only thing that can be heard is the dripping watercooler, which should be an inspiration to us all because it never seems to take a bloody break.
With determination, I head straight to my desk, then hesitate. I had a reason for coming here at this time of night. A very important reason. I’m just way too drunk now to remember what it was.
“Oooh!” Art kneels at the gold reception. “Pretty.”
“There’s a climbing wall in the meeting room,” I say as I peruse my desk, still trying to work out what I’m doing here. “If you feel like entertaining yourself like a baby monkey.”
“I sure do,” my sister says, disappearing straight into it. “No way! Swings! Balls! Jelly beans! So fun! Bet these have sweat and urine all over them.” A pause, then: “Mmm...tangy.”
I smile faintly, then remember what I’m doing here. Glancing up, I check the coaster is clear—ha ha—then open my drawer and pull out my mug. I haven’t gone more than two days without drinking out of this mug in the last decade, and it’s my holiday: I’m not starting now.
“Whatcha doing?” Artemis says from directly behind me. “Oh. My. Gods. Is that what I think it is?”
“Huh?” I tuck the mug into my bag. “No.”
“It is.” She leans over and pulls it out of my hands. “That’s my mug. The one I sent you years and years ago for your birthday.”
“No,” I lie pathetically. “It isn’t.”
“I got it made for you in Thailand in my gap year, Sandy-pants. I know my own bloody joke when I see it. Look, see, it’s a deer, because the deer is my special animal, and the joke is Did You Myth Me? You know, because you’re Cassandra, the tragic mortal, and I’m Artemis, the Greek goddess, and it’s a play on the word miss because the arrow didn’t hit the deer and also because it’s short for Artemis and also because I hadn’t seen you in so long. It’s multifaceted comedy and goddamn hilarious.”
“You don’t need to explain the joke.” I snatch it out of her hands. “I got it. And it’s just a mug. I like the shape of it, that’s all. It holds a good amount of coffee.”
Artemis sits on Ronald’s desk and grins at me.
“Stop it,” I say.
She continues grinning.
“Stop it,” I say again. “Or I’ll punch you in the face.”
“You did myth me.” She swings her trainers back and forth. “You mythed me so hard. This is so embarrassing for you, Cassandra. I’d be mortified right now if I were you. Wow.”
Nostrils flaring, I put the mug safely back in my bag. Honestly, I just couldn’t bear the thought of the cleaner moving it again and Barry breaking it: I don’t think he could handle the violence in me it would unwittingly provoke.
“What do you do again?” Artemis gazes around the office. “Advertising?”
“Public relations,” I say, making sure my desk is perfect before I leave it on its own for the first time. “And you know that, because I’ve told you, and also I’m assuming when you rang Sophie said Force It PR, how can I help you?”
“Oh.” My sister nods. “Yeah. That was funny. Do you like it here?”
“Of course I don’t like it,” I say, using one of my wet wipes. “I don’t like relating publicly. I don’t even like relating privately, most of the time. Ideally, I’d be paid money to sit in a dimly lit room, reading and talking to nobody. Apart from maybe on the rare occasion where I’m wheeled out to talk at someone about something I’m interested in, and everybody is forced to listen but not allowed to respond.”
“So, exactly like Mum, then,” Artemis laughs.
“Yeah.” I smile slightly and suddenly see our mother, sitting on the desk chair opposite us, tucked into a pretzel exactly as Artemis always sits. She was so beautiful. So full of joy and brilliance. It would have been an honor to have turned out like her. “Except, unlike Mum, I don’t have a doctorate in Classics, so I guess it’s communication and anxious pooping for me.”
“Speaking of shit and the classics, I have a bit of a problem.”
“Yeah?” I think I’m done with cleaning an already spotless work environment now: let the holiday fun commence. “What is it?”
“Will sort of thinks my name is Diana.”
I look up so quickly that my eyes spin. “Sorry?”
“Oh. Right.” Art picks up a squidgy toy off Ronald’s desk and squeezes it experimentally. “Will’s the guy you saw me with, in the café. It’s brand-new. We only met last week, at this exhibition thingy. Honestly, I was only there because I thought you’d be, but you never turned up, so I guess I got my venue muddled.”
I breathe out steadily: I’d totally forgotten about Will.
Carefully, I search myself for an emotion—scan my body, go through each limb separately—but there isn’t much there. The slightest hint of pale lavender, maybe, but I’m not sure what it means or what is causing it. Maybe the emotion is there and I’m just too drunk to acknowledge it properly; like when you suddenly realize the pain in your abdomen isn’t anxiety, you just really need a pee.
“Anyway.” Artemis puts the ball back. “I told him I was called Diana. You know, my Roman equivalent. Not sure why, really. At the time I told myself it was in case you turned up. I didn’t want you to get wind of me too quickly and bolt, but I think actually I just quite like...making things up.”
“You enjoy living in all the narratives that never got a chance to happen.”
“Yes!” Artemis widens her eyes. “You get it! You’re so clever.”
“I am not,” I decide firmly.
“So this guy...” Her face softens. “He’s amazing, Cass. So sweet, so chilled. So adventurous and thoughtful and hot. His smile is... It’s one of those smiles that just spreads, you know? Makes everyone else smile too. We really hit it off. Spent ages chatting about all these places we’d been, all the places we want to go, how we want, like, seven billion dogs all in one go, so they’re climbing all over each other. I even told him about the silent retreat and he said he tried to do one years ago but couldn’t manage it either. We decided they’re stupid and we want to set up a retreat where you can talk all the time because we think that would be better for mental health generally.”
My eyes widen: I did not know this fact about Will.
I knew about the smile, obviously.
“But then I lied, so I think I’ve buggered it up already.” Artemis blows her fringe upward, like a mermaid. “Which is gutting because he might be the first nice guy I’ve ever liked. Dad was so lovely, so calm, it feels like after he died I couldn’t be with men who reminded me of him. But this is different. Will just feels safe, you know? Good. I’m even convinced he wouldn’t sell my belongings or dump me while I’m stranded in a foreign country.”
I smile faintly. “I don’t think he would do either of those things.”
“So what do I do?” Art bites the end of her fingers. “Tell him I’m a liar or change my name by deed poll? I’m leaning toward the latter. I’ve looked it up and it costs forty pounds, so it might be worth just reinventing myself again.”
Quickly, I scan myself for emotions a second time.
There’s still nothing like what I was expecting. There’s a shimmering yellow, a little pink, the same lilac—marbled, like a sky at sunset—but none of them feel like heartbreak. None of them feel like grief or loss or intense sadness. More importantly, there’s no sign at all of jealousy, which is the emotion I’d assumed would be blazing right at the front. Frankly, it makes no sense at all. Use my mug and I’ll kick the hell off, but take the boyfriend I love and I’ll be miffed for ten minutes?
“Just tell Will the truth,” I say, sitting abruptly down on my spinning chair and rubbing my neck. “I think he’ll understand.”