‘Precisely Fred, no one here is ordinary. He doesn’t belong. You dress up as Thor, with a Viking helmet and a silver spray painted mallet for Comic Con. You’re one of us … even if you do understand the machines.’
I laughed at his sheepish attempt to study the ceiling.
‘Don’t deny it. I saw the pictures on Facebook and the props guys told me they made the hammer for you.’
‘I had a great time. You should see the outfit Leonie in wardrobe’s going to make me this time. A proper one.’ His eyes lit up with glee. ‘Don’t suppose you’d do my make-up for me?’
‘Of course, I’d love to …’ I stopped, ‘but please don’t say you want to be that blue one from X-Men.’
‘Mystique? Nah, she’s a girl.’ Fred pulled a ‘yuk’ face.
‘And you think that dressing as an imaginary alien species is more acceptable than a spot of cross dressing?’
He shrugged.
‘So, who are you going as? I’ll need to do my research to make sure it’s right.’
‘The Joker. Leonie’s making a purple suit.’
‘Batman. Yes. Big red lips. White face? Green hair.’ I studied Fred’s limp blonde mane dubiously. ‘It might not come out for a while.’
‘I can live with green hair. It’s a Saturday in about three weeks’ time.’
‘Sure, I’ll be working if we’ve got a matinee or I don’t mind coming in. I’ll have to see if I have the right coloured hair spray in the cupboard. But seriously if you want green hair-’
‘It’ll be fine.’
‘Can’t imagine he’d approve of that,’ I nodded towards the office door. ‘Surprised he hasn’t got you in a suit yet.’
‘Give him a break.’
I pulled a face.
Fred nodded enthusiastically. ‘Bit of a control freak but OK. Doubt he’ll be here long. You lot will drive him mad and besides, I reckon as soon as he’s got his shit together he’ll go back to the City.’
‘Why do you say that?’
Fred checked the room with a furtive dart of his head as if to make sure no one was listening. ‘He was at Deutsche bank before here. Bit of a leap. They’ve got some serious mainframe over there. Why he came here, unless he was fired, made redundant or caught fiddling the books? This is a come down for him.’
I put my hands on my hips. ‘This is one of the best places in the world to work.’
Fred laughed. ‘I meant in terms of technology, you great muppet. It’s not exactly cutting edge and he doesn’t have much time for artistic temperament. Knows his stuff, though. Definitely on a mission. Bring this place into the twenty-first century. You have to admit he’s got a point. Some of the kit here pre-dates steam engines and you lot in make-up and wardrobe are a blinking nightmare.’
I knew what he was referring to.
I’d once called Fred up because the computer wouldn’t switch on. The light on the monitor was on, so as far as I was concerned when he said was it switched on, it was. Not seeing the cleaners had unplugged the hard drive the night before was an easy mistake to make.
‘The monitor and the hard drive should switch on together,’ I said still feeling indignant even though it had been six months before, ‘it’s not as if you can use one without the other. It should be automatic.’
‘That probably would make good sense in some situations, Miss Hunter.’
I jumped up from the edge of Fred’s desk. How had he moved so quietly? My mouth dried.
With his white shirt-sleeves rolled up to reveal strong tanned forearms and the top few buttons unbuttoned, I found myself totally distracted by the skin on display, which wasn’t even that much.
‘Would you like to step into my office?’ He gestured for me to go ahead of him.
‘About as much as a fly does into a web,’ I muttered under my breath.
His office had the ice-cold minimalism of an executive. See, definitely alien species. A shiny silver laptop sat in the centre of the dark ash wood desk and absolutely nothing else. He did not belong here. Not a single personal item could be seen, no photos, no knick-knacks nor any colour apart from the rich red satin lining of his jacket which hung from the black leather chair at his desk. It contrasted sharply with my little cubby-hole upstairs which embraced a magpie approach, as if one had flown through my life, cherry-picking the best bits to produce a snapshot of memories with pictures of finished make-up designs, photos of me and friends on various nights out, ticket stubs of milestone productions and swatches of fabrics.
He pulled up a chair for me and then took his seat opposite. It felt as cold and chilly as being in a headmaster’s office.
Any moment now, he’d say ‘You know why you’re here, have you anything to say for yourself?’
Leaning back in his executive chair, he exuded an air of being relaxed and in control.
‘Would you like a coffee?’
Surprised, I nodded. He disappeared and within minutes returned with two pristine white china coffee cups.
‘Wow, real coffee. How did you do that?’
‘Nespresso machine.’
‘How did you wangle one of those? Is that the sort of perk you have in the City?’
‘No, there we have minions who go out and get our double espresso mochaccino lattes for us.’
I nodded, of course they did.
His lips quirked in a brief smile. It took me a second to catch up.
‘It’s my own machine. I brought it in.’
Oooh, a sense of humour. I hadn’t expected that.
I took a sip. Heaven in a cup. ‘I’ll have to remember this.’
One eyebrow twitched. ‘You’re always welcome.’
He might have meant, over my dead body, but there was something else in his expression that made my pulse flutter in recognition of something that I thought had long since passed me by. Was he flirting with me?
‘Thank you for coming to see me.’
Ah maybe he wasn’t. There was nothing flirtatious about the grave, business-like expression that had dropped down across his face as if the drawbridge had suddenly been drawn up.
I shrugged. ‘Alison insisted,’ I blurted out with my usual blunt honesty, instead of slowing down to frame the apology I’d planned. Before I managed to carry on, his face darkened and he stiffened, the brief sense of humour I’d sensed earlier vanishing like smoke.
‘It’s obvious that for some departments in this building, technology is viewed with the same sort of suspicion as witchcraft in the Dark Ages.’ The stilted words sounded a bit rehearsed, the irony of which was not lost on me, given we were in a theatre where people normally played their parts with ease.
He shook his head. ‘The place is filled with archetypal Luddites.’
This place! Any thought of an apology dried up.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever come across anything quite like it. Alison and I have discussed some changes. My role is to help each department identify where technological applications could help increase efficiency and productivity. I can’t believe the lack of computer literacy in some of the departments. It’s a bloody nightmare.’ He sighed and fiddled with the pen on his desk before looking up and focusing on me.