‘Think that makes us quits now. You took a tumble and now I have too,’ he says, grinning, and I notice that his eyes are seeking out mine. He’s irresistible, but I still don’t trust him after what he said in the club and then practically ignoring me in favour of his phone. I quickly turn away and bend down to retrieve the rest of the folders.
‘Indeed, and err thanks for, well …’ My voice trails off. He hands me a few more folders.
‘How come you have these?’ he asks, scrutinising the last one from the floor.
‘Oh, they’re not mine. I bumped into Maxine on her way into work with them. I’m just taking them up for her.’
‘I see. So why isn’t she taking them herself?’ he asks, looking puzzled.
‘Well, I did offer,’ I say, feebly, thinking what a creep he probably thinks I am. But secretly praying that if I’m ever going to get stuck in a lift again for any length of time, then, please please please God … could it actually be right now.
‘But she shouldn’t be taking them home. I’d better let her know.’ He flashes a look of disappointment as he shakes his head. This is strange – I’m surprised he thinks he’s in a position to contemplate pulling her up about it. It seems far too assured. They must be on really good terms, as I can’t imagine he’d get away with it otherwise. The thought makes me feel uneasy. ‘Err, on second thoughts, probably best not to,’ he says, awkwardly, as though he suddenly realises he’s said something he shouldn’t have.
The lift arrives on the canteen floor, and after Tom leaves, I carry on mulling things over until I reach the top floor.
I finally make it to Maxine’s office and dump the folders down on her desk.
‘Thought you said you were fit.’ She shoos me away with an imperious hand, not even bothering to say thank you. I walk away, wanting to smack her beautiful face.
‘Oh Gina, something’s cropped up so we’ll have to have our meeting at ten thirty instead.’ For a second, I don’t respond, I’m too busy feeling cheated at having hauled myself out of bed at six o’clock this morning for what now appears to be no apparent reason. ‘Did you hear me? I said—’
‘Yes, I heard you. See you at ten thirty,’ I reply, wondering what would happen if I killed her. Throttled the life out of her Restylane-riddled body, right here in her office. In a sudden melodramatic moment, I toy with the mental image of myself in an orange jumpsuit, shuffling around like an American prisoner on death row, but then quickly shove the thought from my mind. Orange really isn’t a flattering colour – it’s so difficult to pull off, and she’s soo not worth it.
Eradicating the thoughts of a prison stretch, I manage to restrain myself, and make my way back to the lift. As I’m walking, I mentally write out a really scathing resignation letter in my head, to console myself with instead.
I’m waiting for the lift when my mobile buzzes in my pocket. It’s Sam.
‘Can you talk?’ she says, clandestinely, sounding like a phoney secret agent.
‘Yes,’ I reply, glancing around. Her manner makes me feel paranoid all of a sudden.
‘Next Thursday at six p.m. Are you free?’
‘Why are you whispering?’ I ask. I can barely hear her.
‘You said to be discreet.’ I ponder on her bizarre logic before realising what she’s talking about. ‘Sorry it’s taken so long.’ Silence follows. ‘Oh hang on a sec.’ I hear the oven timer ping. ‘Sorry about that, just had to rescue a batch of chocolate muffins. I’ve got you an interview.’
It takes a few seconds to sink in. I lean against the wall, clutching the phone to my ear. The feeling of relief, that I might actually escape Maxine’s clutches after all, is overwhelming.
16
‘Tell me again what happened.’ Maxine’s voice sounds amused, but her body language contradicts her. She’s draped over the corner of her desk and I’m in the low chair again, forced to look up at her.
‘I dropped them in the lift. Like I said, that’s why the papers might be in the wrong folders,’ I say, hesitantly. The way she’s looking at me, she might as well be holding up a placard with the word ‘liar’ emblazoned across it and be done with it. I fidget and feel guilty, even though I haven’t done anything wrong.
‘Well, ten out of ten for imagination.’ She throws her head back and shakes her mane around for a bit.
‘Look, I was trying to do you a favour by bringing them up,’ I say, feeling tired and irritated now, but remembering that she holds the cards to my future. ‘If you don’t believe me then ask Tom, he was in the lift as well.’ I notice a flicker of something, almost like pleasure, dart across her face at the mention of his name. She licks her lips.
‘Hang on a minute. I let you take the folders to see if you could be trusted. My job is to revitalise the store, after all, and part of that is making sure we have a team that can be trusted going forward, so I was actually doing you the favour,’ she says, in a breezy voice. Incredible. For a moment I wonder if we’re actually having the same conversation.
‘I’m not sure what you mean …’ I resist the urge to be ruder – my fate is in her hands, after all – but I’m intrigued to hear her explanation.
‘By giving you the opportunity to show you can be trusted, of course.’ I feel my face creasing with confusion.
‘So you’re telling me you gave me the folders on purpose to see if I would look through them?’ I say the words slowly, her logic still not really sinking in.
‘Of course.’ For a moment I’m speechless.
‘But you told me not to take the lift,’ I say, thinking ha! I’ve definitely caught her out now.
‘Oh, yes. Sorry about that, it was rather mean of me.’ She lets out a little chuckle and then holds my stare until I have to back down and look away. ‘And as predicted you couldn’t resist looking, could you? And who can blame you? If it’s any consolation I would have done exactly the same thing in your shoes.’ She glances down at my New Look heels before wrinkling her nose. I try to work out whether this means I’ve passed her stupid test or not and I’m under no illusion that this could be the first of many.
‘So Gina,’ she says, and I flinch. ‘Did you stumble across anything interesting in the files?’ Her eyes glint, it’s almost as though she’s fired up by trying to create a drama.
‘What difference would it make if I had?’
‘What do you mean, Gina?’
‘Would you mind not calling me that? My name is Georgie,’ I say abruptly, and the look on her face immediately makes me wish I hadn’t, but I’m not going to let her trample all over me.
‘As you wish.’ She studies me for a few seconds, tilting her head slightly to one side. I squirm under her scrutiny. ‘And good for you for making a stand.’ She points at me with her pen. ‘My kind of girl,’ she says, quite unexpectedly. I sit back in my chair, feeling slightly more relaxed. So the name thing was another one of her little games then.
‘Tell me what you meant about making a difference,’ Maxine says. Then she peers at me again and I hesitate before answering.
‘You already know James, and Tom seems to be quite confident about things –’ I scrutinise her face to see if I’ve overstepped the mark – ‘and well, I feel as though you don’t like me. It’s as if I’ve already done something wrong, when in fact I’m very good at my job.’
‘Like you? What’s that got to do with it?’ She doesn’t deny it. ‘And if you think James has some kind of an advantage just because we used to –’ she pauses,