‘That’s no excuse for you shouting and swearing, not at your staff, anyway. So unprofessional, not to mention downright rude.’
I hold up my hands in apology. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll apologise to Sandy and Nina.’ His eyes rest on me without moving. ‘It’s okay. You can quit with the death stare. I’ll apologise right now.’ I go to get up.
‘Before you do,’ says Leonard. ‘Can you explain to me what is actually going on?’
‘I haven’t got a file with me. I left it at home. I wanted the digital copy but it’s not up to date. Nina went home early on Friday and no one else thought to back up the week’s work. Sandy hasn’t updated the digital copy for three weeks. Subsequently, no one has up-to-date records. I have a meeting today and I need the info.’
‘What file are we talking about?’
I was hoping he wouldn’t ask. ‘The McMillan file.’
‘When you say you haven’t got it with you, where exactly is it?’
I feel like a naughty schoolgirl who has been caught out for not doing their homework. I briefly wonder if I could blame the dog for eating the file. I dismiss the flippant thought. I haven’t got a bloody dog anyway. ‘It’s at home.’
‘Can’t you nip back and get it, if it’s that important?’ I now wonder if I can buy a dog this afternoon and post-date the purchase to place the dog at the scene of the alleged crime. ‘You do know where the file is, don’t you?’
‘I thought I put it in my briefcase. Well, I did on Friday, but now it’s not there.’
‘You had it at home? Where did you read it?’
‘That’s just it. I didn’t. I was too busy in the end.’
‘The file’s lost. Is that what you’re telling me?’
‘Possibly. But I need to check at home. Perhaps I did take it out and forgot to put it back. Or put it down without realising. Or put it in Hannah’s book bag.’
‘What?’ Leonard looks incredulous.
‘Sorry, that was a joke, that bit,’ I say, realising my attempt to defuse the situation isn’t going to work. ‘Look, I’ll postpone the meeting until later in the week. That will give me a chance to find the file.’
‘Of course, it would have to be the fucking McMillan file. You couldn’t lose some poxy petty divorce file, could you?’ I get the death stare again and look down at my desk, feeling truly admonished. ‘And don’t forget to apologise to Sandy and Nina.’
More door-slamming as Leonard leaves.
I debate whether to call home and ask Mum or Luke to have a look around for the file, but I decide against it. I’m not exactly flavour of the month there. In fact, I’m not flavour of the month here, either. I get up, grab my handbag and shoot out to the delicatessen over the road. I buy cream cakes and deluxe hot chocolates, with all the trimmings, squirty cream, chocolate sprinkles and marshmallows and take my peace offerings to Sandy and Nina, with grovelling apologies for being such a cow.
It’s good practice for the grovelling apologies I’ll have to make tonight when I go home. My phone pings with a text message. It’s Pippa.
Fancy a quick coffee aka a glass of wine? I’m in town. Xx
I smile at the message. I could do with a friendly face. I reply straight away that I’ll meet her across the road at the deli in an hour.
Sitting in the window of the deli, some sixty-five minutes later, my appointment with McMillan successfully postponed, albeit begrudgingly on his part, I start to feel myself relax for the first time today.
‘Your text couldn’t have come at a better time,’ I say, wiping a line through the condensation on the glass of wine with my thumb. ‘Honestly, it’s been a pig of a day already.’ I fill Pippa in on the details, not just the missing file but the hoo-ha at home this morning.
‘What’s bothering you most? The missing file or Alice?’ asks Pippa.
‘I don’t know,’ I reply honestly. ‘The file, I can get over. It will be a pain, not to mention embarrassing, having to confess to losing all that info.’
‘And Alice? Can you get over her too?’
I stall for time by taking a sip of my wine. ‘I wish …’ I look away. ‘I wish it was easier with her. Everything has been turned upside down. I can’t put my finger on it but it just doesn’t feel right. Maybe I’m expecting too much. I’m not naive. I know these things take time, but it’s getting worse instead of better. It’s like she’s come into our lives in a blaze of glory and everyone has fallen in love with her, except me.’
‘Ooh, do I detect a note of jealousy?’
‘Is it that obvious? Jesus, I’ve suddenly found my jealous streak, the one I didn’t know I had. But it’s like …’ I struggle to complete the sentence, knowing it will make me sound so bloody childish.
‘It’s like she’s taking over your life,’ supplies Pippa.
‘Exactly. Don’t I sound pathetic?’ It’s a statement, not a question.