She felt the ache of tears in her nose again. “My mum’s ill. You know that.”
“I know. I know. I’m very aware you’ve had...a rough time of things the last few years. And we’re fully committed to a family-friendly, er...” Jeff trailed off awkwardly, perhaps remembering that Annie no longer had a family. He knew, of course. Everyone knew, and yet they still got upset about the franking machine and who’d used all the milk. What was the matter with them? “I know it’s been hard. But we have to bring a positive attitude to work, no matter what’s going on. PMA, Annie!” He made a gesture as if he was swinging an imaginary baseball bat. “You know, there’s going to be more redundancies this year. We’ll all have to fight for our jobs. So...if you could just join in a bit more, smile, you know, ask after people’s kids and so on. I mean, it’s been two years, hasn’t it? Since...everything?”
Annie stared down at her hands, humiliated beyond words. But she wouldn’t cry in front of him. She would wait until she could slip into the loo and sob her heart out there, as she had done at least once a week for the past two years. Through gritted teeth, she said, “I’ll try. Can I go now?”
*
Annie stood in the work kitchen, waiting for the silted-up kettle to boil. The air smelled permanently of tuna, and in the sink there was a spill of what was either vomit or instant pasta. Sharon had prized it off with a fork, like a food crime scene, and left one of her trademark notes about it. It is NOT the cleaners JOB 2 wash up ur FOOD. There had to be more to life than this. Dragging herself here every day, on a bus full of angry commuters. Sitting in this office that was never cleaned properly, with people she would literally cross the street to avoid. As the kettle snapped off she felt a cold nugget of certainty settle in her chest. There has to be more than this. There has to.
*
“There’s someone to see you.”
Annie looked up from her screen a few hours later to see Sharon hovering. Sharon only seemed to have five outfits, which she wore in strict rotation. Today’s outfit was number two—a red cardigan covered in dog hairs (she had four) and an ankle-length skirt with a misshapen hem. “Who is it?”
Sharon sniffed. “Some woman. Dressed like a mad person.”
Oh, no, that sounded like Polly. When there’d been no knock at the door that morning, she’d thought she was safe. Polly was clearly dealing with her diagnosis by seizing life, but would it last? The trouble with seizing life was eventually you had to pay some taxes or get your hair cut or regrout the shower. Why had she latched on to Annie, who wasn’t seizing life so much as hiding from it at all costs, crying in the loos? Maybe she could head her off.
Too late, she saw Polly was already barreling into the office, waving. She wore a red trilby and a big cape-like coat, and was carrying a cardboard box.
Annie jumped up. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought we could have lunch.”
“I don’t have time for lunch.”
“Annie! Are you paid for your break?”
“Well, no, but—”
“So they’re getting an extra hour out of you, unpaid, every day?”
“Keep your voice down,” Annie hissed, looking about her. Her coworkers were hunched at their desks, eating sandwiches or slurping up tinned soup, staring at their computers. “How did you know where I worked?”
“Oh, you’re on the website. I brought you a care package!” Polly shoved the box onto Annie’s desk. A silver photo frame, a mug that said You Don’t Have to Be Mad to Work Here But You Probably Are. Sachets of tea. Biscuits, sparkly pens, wet wipes, a little plant. A notebook with a blue silk cover. “Just a few things to brighten up your work space. I bet it’s all dirty and nasty.”
“It is not!”
“You sure?” Polly ran a finger over the base of Annie’s computer and brought it back, black with dust. “Everyone’s work desk is filthy. We spend so much time at them and we don’t even try to make them nice. Little things can really make a difference.”
Annie sighed. “Come on, we should go out. We’re not meant to have visitors.” She hustled Polly out the door, past a goggling Sharon, who had finally found something more interesting than Farm World to look at.
Polly looked at the building—hideous seventies concrete plonked beside ten lanes of traffic—with a critical eye. “I don’t blame you for being miserable. This place would bring anyone down.”
“Exactly. And I have to work here every day, doing something I hate, so how will adding some tea bags to my desk help?”
“It’ll help. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
“You’re not going to suggest I open up and get to know everyone in the office, and learn that we’re all the same under the skin, no matter how much skin there is?”
Polly laughed. “No. Some people are just awful. And some things need to be run away from, very fast, like an exploding bomb. You should quit.”
Annie felt anger build again—who was this woman, telling her what to do? “I can’t. I need the money.”
“You can do something else,” Polly said cheerfully.
“There’s a recession on.”
“Excuses.” Polly waved a hand. “Everyone uses that one, Annie. Oh, everything was always better in the past! Things are rubbish now we’re not allowed to send our children down the mines! It’s just a cop-out.”
“But—”
Polly grasped Annie’s arm. “I know you’re cross, but I’m sorry—cancer card. You’ll see I’m right, in time. Now come with me. We’re doing something for our hundred happy days. It’s a pretty simple one—take a lunch break.”
“I never said I’d do the hundred days. And, anyway, I do take a lunch break.”
“And what do you do? Go on Facebook? Run errands?”
“Sometimes I buy a sandwich.”
“In a nice place?”
“There is nowhere nice around here. Tesco usually.”
“Do you at least leave your desk to eat it?”
“And go where? The loos? The traffic island in the roundabout?”
“What about here?” Polly stopped, opening her arms wide in the manner of a Las Vegas showgirl.
Annie looked skeptically at the square of grass they’d ended up beside. “The park? I’m not going in there—we’ll get kidnapped by drug dealers!”
Polly was already pushing open the gates. “Hello, hello, anyone here selling drugs? I really want to buy some crack! See, nothing. I think we’re safe.”
“It’s freezing.”
“I have blankets.” Parking herself on a bench, Polly took two heavy Slankets from her tote bag.
“I feel ridiculous.” Annie was glad at least that the blanket partly covered her face. What if someone from work walked by and saw her picnicking in the cold, dreary park beside all the dog poop? They’d think she’d finally snapped her last thread.
Polly whipped out two small cardboard boxes. “You’re not vegetarian?”
“No, but—”
“Then eat up!”