The Debt & the Doormat (7 page)

QUICKLY!  Think of
something
.

‘Eavesdropping?’ he accuses with a smug smile. 

‘No!’ I say far too quickly.  God, he’s so self-obsessed.  ‘But I couldn’t help over-hearing.  And
you’re
judging me for having a one night stand.  Going around telling every girl you meet that you love them, that's far worse!’  My voice is shrill, and I swallow, trying to get my normal voice back.

‘Sorry, but I thought you were just having a go at me for being judgemental?  Pot calling kettle if you ask me,’ he snorts.

‘Ha!  How bloody dare you!’  As soon as I say it I feel like I’ve over-reacted. 

‘Whatever.’  He rolls his eyes and stomps out of the room. 

*                            *                            *

Lilly greets me at my desk, dressed in a bright peach dress which makes her tan look amazing.  I wish I had natural fashion flare.  I once tried to wear a gorgeous black and white dress, but I spilled strawberry milkshake down it within half an hour.  I would normally gush over her outfit, telling her how pretty she looks, but today I hold back.  I’m still furious with her for yesterday.  I tense my face, looking as stern as possible. 

‘Hey, I love your dress,’ Lilly says admiringly, seeming to ignore my cold reception.

‘I’m not talking to you,’ I say stiffly, sounding like a child in the playground.

‘Oh
please!’
she begs.  ‘I’m sorry.  It just got a bit out of hand.  I was just so scared you’d end up getting us both in trouble.  I mean really, I was kind of saving you?’

I look up and her pathetic face wins me over.  Her large blue eyes seem to have a power over people. 

‘Ok.  I forgive you.’

‘Thank God,’ she says, as if the whole incident had been a massive inconvenience.

‘God, you’re annoying.’

‘Love you too Pops.’  She smiles and punches me on the shoulder.

‘What have you two crazy cats been up to?’ Cheryl asks from the next desk, her obnoxious condescending face making me want to immediately punch her. 

‘No, nothing for you to worry about,’ Lilly smiles politely.

‘Oooh, it must be interesting then.  I do love your little stories; they remind me of my single days before I settled down and got real.’

‘Well thanks for the advice,’ Lilly snaps, rolling her eyes at me.

I quickly grab a post it and write on it ‘I HAD SEX LAST NIGHT!’

‘No!’ Lilly shouts, clapping her hands together.  Her bracelets jingle together, as if a bell is being rung.

‘What's going on?’ Cheryl asks. 

I glare at Lilly, pleading with her not to say anything.

‘Oh, nothing.  I just broke a nail,’ she says, sucking her finger dramatically.  She smiles back at me, while giving me a warning look which I think translates as “you must tell me everything later”.

‘Poppy!  Ah, there you are,’ sighs Victor, coming out of his office, his normal olive skin red and flustered. 

Lilly immediately runs towards her desk.  Everyone here is terrified of Victor.  He’s the CEO, and although only five foot tall, everyone runs in fear of him.  He’s taken turns in humiliating every member of staff publicly over the years.  Lilly’s incident involved a report and a banana.  It still gives me chills just thinking about it. 

‘Morning.’  I smile and quickly grab a post it and pen.

‘Glad to see you’re feeling better,’ he says formally, brushing a bit of dandruff from his shoulder.   ‘Could I see you in my office for a moment?’

‘Yes, of course.’  I take a deep breath as I run there.  I hope he’s not going to give me a lecture on being reliable.  One bloody sick day in four years!   

‘I’ve got the chairman, Mrs Dewitt, in today.  She’s in the boardroom now, as you were late.’  He looks at his watch and then at me disapprovingly. 

Late by two minutes.  Definitely a sackable offence.

‘If you could sort out drinks and make sure she feels as comfortable as possible.’

‘Of course,’ I smile.

‘It's a B-I-G meeting today,’ he says, stretching out the word ‘big’ for emphasis.  He stares at me, willing me to ask him to elaborate.

‘Oh really, why?’ I ask, un-interested. 

‘Well, Poppy as you know, business has not been going very well this past year.’  He pauses for a second and looks over my shoulder.  ‘Shut the door.’

I quickly close it, sudden nerves pulsating through me. 

‘Business has not been good and I’m afraid...I’m afraid we’re going to have to make redundancies.’

‘Redundancies?’ I blurt out.

My stomach curdles at the thought and I suddenly feel ill with panic.   

‘Yes.  Strictly confidential, you understand.’  He lowers his bushy grey eyebrows on me in a threatening manner.

I nod, unable to speak.

‘This is the final sign off and we’ll be making them by the end of the month.’

‘This month?’

My hands are clammy now.

‘Yes,’ he nods.

‘Do they have to be made?  These redundancies.  Isn’t there...another solution?’

‘Poppy, this is a recession,’ he says, sighing heavily. 

‘Yes, but...’

‘But what Poppy?’ he shouts, his face getting red as he loses what little patience he had. 

I was going to say that surely kids still get nits, even in a recession. 

‘Nothing,’ I say instead, hating myself.  Why can't I be like the women in those films that stands up to her boss and instead manages to get a promotion? 

‘Good.  Now you are to say nothing about this, understood?’

I nod and follow Victor into the boardroom.  I watch him numbly as he starts his usual middle classed babble of ridiculous chat with the Chairman.  How can this be happening?

‘Have you seen any of that big fat gypsy wedding?’ Mrs Dewitt says to him from across the boardroom table.  ‘Oh Victor, it was such fun!’

‘Oh, yes!’ Victor nods.  ‘Poppy here is Irish.  Tell us Poppy, are any of your family in it?’

I look over my shoulder, sure he must be talking to another Poppy.  Is he serious?  Is he seriously calling me a gypsy?

‘Um...no.  Not all Irish people are gypsies and it's only on my Mother’s side.’  Why did I feel the need to tell him that?  I’m not embarrassed. 

‘They’re a funny bunch, aren’t they,’ Victor says, ignoring me completely.  ‘The outfits they wear!  I mean, my goodness!’

I look down at Mrs Dewitt’s outfit, consisting of an orange mini skirt with fish net tights and a purple shirt which looks like it's going to burst open at any moment.

‘Tea or coffee?’ I offer, not sure how they’re managing to have normal care free conversation when they’re about to talk redundancies.  They’re going to ruin some people’s lives. 

‘Oh, but I do love the Irish,’ Mrs Dewitt says.  ‘Went to Dublin a few years back.  Wonderful people.’

‘Oh yes.  Well, like I said we have our very own little leprechaun to bring us good luck,’ Victor laughs.

I wonder who’s safe and who’s not.  Paul the salesman has just bought a new house and Jeremy’s wife has just had twins. 

‘I know!’  Victor exclaims, pulling me out of my thoughts.  His eyes grow wide as he stares at me.

‘Tea?  Coffee?’ I offer again, my smile strained. 

‘Why don't you give us a little Irish jig?’ Victor suggests, his eyes dancing at the idea.

Irish jig?  Is he
serious
?

‘Oh yes!  Goody.  I do like a show,’ Mrs Dewitt says, clapping her hands together.

‘I...I can't,’ I stammer, my legs going wobbly at the thought.

‘Of course you can Poppy,’ Victor says, smiling with his mouth, but warning with his eyes. 

Please don't make me, I try to communicate back.

‘Have you got enough room?’ Mrs Dewitt asks, pulling her chair out of the way.

‘I...I...’ 

I can't speak!  I cannot do this!  I cannot dance around the room like an idiot.

‘Take your shoes off Poppy,’ Victor instructs.

Why don't I just take off all of my clothes and have an
actual
nightmare?  Mrs Dewitt bends over and starts pulling at my shoes.  I’m tempted to kick her in the face and run for the hills.

‘My goodness, what small feet you have!’ she shouts, as she prises my un-willing feet out of them.  ‘What size are you?’

‘I’m a five.’

‘My goodness - so small!’ 

Size five is average actually.  Not like your size 9 clown feet.

‘Let me Google a tune for you,’ Victor says, already on his iPhone.

This can't be happening.  This
cannot
be happening.

‘Here we go!’ Victor says happily, as the rooms fills with a tune.  It reminds me of my childhood in Irish bars drinking red lemonade and eating Tato crisps.

‘Go Poppy!’ Victor shouts, clapping his hands together. 

‘But....I’m really not – ‘

‘Go!  I said GO!’

His snarl is enough to pull my body into action.  I jump to my tip toes immediately and try to forget about them staring at me.  I jig around, quickly remembering the steps, flinging my legs in the air, all the time wishing I was dead. 

‘Brilliant Poppy!’ Victor shouts, encouragingly. 

I smile back, the old steps becoming clearer with each one I take.  Why should I even be embarrassed?  I’m good at Irish dancing!  I won loads of medals when I was younger.  I mean, granted, I was seven at the time, but still! 

‘Yes, thank-you Poppy,’ Victor says abruptly, his playful mood over.  ‘Two coffees.’

I stop abruptly, panting, out of breath.  Well, he changes his mind bloody quickly.  Just when I was getting into my stride.  I pick my shoes up and walk out of the meeting room, heading for the kitchen.

‘Oh, Poppy thank God!’ Lilly says, rushing towards me.  ‘I have an important message for you.’

‘Really?  What?’

The worst thoughts go running through my head.  My Mum, my Dad; are they ok?

‘Michael Flatley called.  He wants his moves back.  Something about you stealing them?’

My face freezes in embarrassment. 

‘Oh ha bloody ha,’ I say hitting her on the shoulder.  ‘You saw then?’

‘Not just me!  Victor e-mailed a video of it to everyone in the company.’

My stomach hits the floor and I can suddenly hear my heart thumping hard.

‘Please,
please
tell me you’re joking,’ I plead.  I need to run away and escape.

‘I wish I was.’  She eyes me sympathetically.  ‘Yeah, good luck with the rest of the day.’  She smiles wickedly, walking away.

I make the coffees, my hands still shaking and take them towards the meeting room.

‘Top of the morning to ya!’ Jeremy says, as he walks past.

‘Oh, fuck off.’

*
                            *                            *

The minute I get back to the house I throw my shoes at the wall and lie on the lumpy sofa.  Those damn fucking shoes!  They’ve given me angry, vicious looking blisters at the back of my foot where they’ve rubbed.  The last ten minutes of my walk home I had to rip them off and go barefoot.  Jazz keeps telling me off for doing that. 

‘Hey Pops.  Bad day?’ Izzy asks coming into the room wearing nothing but a towel. 

‘Yeah.  Understatement of the year actually,’ I answer, feeling very sorry for myself.

She begins towel drying her hair and I can’t stop noticing what an amazing body she has.  Don’t get me wrong – I’m no lesbian,  but her legs are so toned and tanned.  Her whole body looks like it should belong in a high gloss magazine, not in this grotty sitting room in Shepherd’s Bush.  In fact, if there were a girl to turn me it would probably be her.

‘Poppy?  I said what happened?’

I pull myself back into the room, telling myself off for daydreaming again.

‘Oh, sorry.  It's a bit of a long story actually.’

‘Oh, well to be honest,’ she says, scrunching her face up in regret, ‘I haven’t got too much time on my hands.  Me and Gracie have got dates.’

‘Oh really, that's great.  Anyone special?’ I ask, pleased that the conversation has turned back to her.

‘No.  Just some guys from her office.  Probably bores, but you never know.’  She winks at me.

‘Oh, well have a great time.’

‘Thanks.  And I
will
chat to you about this, I promise.  Why don't we go for brekkie tomorrow before work?’

‘Oh.’ I’m genuinely surprised at the offer of real friendship.  It’s been so long since I made a new friend.  ‘Yeah that would be great.’ I try to smile half as widely as her, while pretending I will be fine to get up at a ridiculous hour.

‘Awesome.  Well I’m gonna go blow dry my hair, but I’ll wake you in the morning, ok?’