Being Shirley Page 13

  “Um, actually, no. I might take the stairs. It’s, uh, it’s a good way to keep fit.”

  “I know much more fun ways of keeping fit,” she said with what she hoped was a leer and felt a stab of pleasure at the look of terror that flashed across his weasel-like features before he darted off towards the smoke stop door and the safety of the stairwell. As the lift doors slid shut, Annie burst out laughing. There was something to be said for being thought of a sexual deviant. It served him jolly well right. She punched the button that would take her to the fourth floor victoriously.

  As she sailed past Tammy with a genuinely cheery good morning, Annie didn’t pause to see whether the receptionist would look up from her iPhone. Today she didn’t give a toss whether she acknowledged her greeting or not, and it felt good. Heading towards her desk, she noticed that Sue’s head was down and she typed in earnest. For once, the woman being consistently early despite there being no monetary benefit in it for her didn’t annoy her. Annie sang out a bright and breezy hello and draped her coat on the back of her chair. Then, after she’d shoved her handbag under her desk, she looked up to see that Sue had paused with her fingers hovered in midair over the keyboard to gawp over at her. Annie gave her a little wave; Sue blinked twice at her before she resumed her typing, more furiously than before. Annie smiled as she sat and switched her computer on before she turned her attention to clearing her in-tray.

  She had decided the best course of action was to bide her time until Attila provided her with the perfect moment to sock her news to her. With a glimpse at her diary, she saw that she was going to be in a meeting for the best part of the morning. Good, that would give her plenty of time to tidy up her work station.

  She had just deleted the last of her personal emails and clipped a piece of correspondence that lurked at the bottom of her filing tray for at least six months into its client file when the boardroom door opened. Attila, as immaculate as ever, and a self-satisfied looking silver-haired client walked out of the meeting room, their noses nearly touching the ceiling as, not sparing a glance at the minions who sat behind their computer screens, they strode through the office into the reception area. Annie peered over the top of her computer to watch as Attila held out her hand to the silver top. He nodded curtly and gave her hand a brief shake before he moved off to wait for the lift. Attila turned around to reveal a face like thunder and, looking like a school teacher about to bust a group of teenagers smoking down the back of the field, she marched back into the office.

  Oh goodie, thought Annie, no longer intimidated by her. The meeting hadn’t gone well and her boss was obviously in foul humour. That would make what she was about to do just that little bit more enjoyable!

  “Annie! My office right now,” Attila barked without so much as a glance over in her direction as she slammed her office door behind her.

  Sue glanced over at her with wide eyes and Annie grinned across at her. “Don’t worry about me, Sue. I’m going to enjoy every moment of what’s about to happen next but I’d take cover if I was you.”

  Not bothering to knock and wait to be summoned, she marched into the boxy room. Her head was held high and her back was straight as she stood in front of the desk she had quivered in front of far too many times over these last six months. Attila’s coiffed head was bent as she breathed fire over the stack of paperwork she shuffled through.

  “I’d ask you to knock next time,” she stated, her head still down. “Franklin’s Meat. So their marketing executive has just informed me they are not happy with our last performance review, which means I am not happy.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  Attila looked up at that, unsure whether she detected sarcasm in her secretary’s tone of voice and not liking the fact that she certainly didn’t detect fear.

  Annie just smiled saccharinely back at her with her hands clasped patiently in front of her black work skirt and bided her time. She planned to donate her skirt, along with her numerous work blouses, to the Salvation Army once today was over.

  The older woman’s flinty eyes narrowed and Annie was fascinated by how much she reminded her of a snake that was about to strike. “Which also means I need this re-drafted ASAP.” She all but threw the sheaf of papers at Annie.

  “Oh sorry, I can’t. It’s nearly lunchtime.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I’m going to lunch in five minutes. I have plans.” It was true: she was meeting her girlfriend Charlotte who worked nearby for a bon voyage luncheon. “And there’s not really much incentive for me to work through my lunch break, is there? Seeing as I don’t actually get paid for it. It never seems to suit you, either, for me to take time off in lieu for all the extra hours I have worked since you took over from Mel, and from my calculations, I have two full days owing at least.”

  Attila swallowed and licked her lips, not quite fathoming what she was being told.

  “So you might want to go and speak nicely to Sue to see if she’ll stay behind and do it for you.”

  Attila pushed her chair back, stood and then gathered herself together. But despite her height over her, Annie didn’t find herself shaking in her black pumps this time. She was enjoying the gobsmacked look on her boss’s face far too much for that.

  “Do you value your job, Annie? Because let me tell you—”

  Annie held her hand up and interrupted, “Um, no, actually, Adelia, I think I have let you tell me quite enough. It’s my turn now and I want you to know that you have made my working life a complete misery these last six months. You are a bully of the worst kind who deserves to find herself in front of the Employment Tribunal. That’s why I hope the letter I have just written and sent through to them explaining your appalling treatment of me serves such a purpose. Unfortunately, I won’t be around to see things through because I am going away. You’ll find my letter of resignation on my desk.” Annie turned on her heel and stalked out of the office. She tossed back over her shoulder, “Oh, and don’t worry about a reference. I won’t need one, thanks.”

  With a grin plastered from ear to ear, she gave a victory salute to Sue, who stared open-mouthed at her. Annie was sure she glimpsed a flicker of admiration in the woman’s eyes but it was hard to tell from behind those milk bottle glasses of hers. She scooped up her coat from the back of the chair and slid into it as she felt a set of boa constrictor eyes bore into her. Attila had moved from behind her desk and stood in the doorway of her office, arms folded across her chest. Annie watched her for a moment, fascinated by the way her face had mottled in pockets of puce. Even from where she stood, Annie could hear her breath coming in short bursts as she stamped her Hush Puppy clad foot, Rumplestiltskin style. Corns weren’t responsible for her ill temper then, she thought with a desultory glance at her former boss’s sensible footwear. With her handbag over her shoulder, she walked out.

  PART TWO

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Right, that’s it. I’ve had enough. I’d like to get off now!”

  “Carl, we are somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. You can’t just get off when you feel like it. For goodness’ sake, you’re in an aeroplane, not on a bloody bicycle. Now, do your seatbelt back up—can’t you see the sign’s on?” Annie pointed at the overhead symbol, her patience wearing thin with her disgruntled travel companion. At her sharp tone, Carl pouted. He looked like a little boy who had just been chastened by his mother, she thought as she watched him do as he’d been told. The poor lady seated on the aisle side of him looking pained, so she leaned across him and tapped her lightly on the forearm and mouthed, “I’m sorry. He doesn’t travel well.” The passenger was from Singapore and was tiny, which was to her advantage with Carl thrashing around in the seat next to her like a river monster hooked on a rod. She gave Annie a weary but polite smile in return. The Singaporian people were so polite, Annie thought as she watched the woman close her eyes in an attempt to get some sleep. Chance would be a fine thing! She turned her attention back to Carl.

  “Come on, ju
st try to relax; that’s what you have to do on a long flight. Why don’t you watch a movie or something if you can’t sleep?”

  “I couldn’t possibly concentrate. Honestly, a cage-reared chicken has more room than I do, which is why I never buy anything other than free-range eggs because, Annie, it is inhumane! So you tell me how in the hell I am supposed to relax?” He bordered on hysteria as he crossed his arms and demanded to know how much further London was.

  Annie wished she had an elephant-sized tranquilliser gun to hand because she would, in her present state of mind, have no qualms about firing it. Given a choice, she would rather travel with a toddler than with Carl because she was sure a belligerent child would be easier to deal with than the fidgety six-foot male seated next to her. She wondered idly whether there were any doctors on board who might be able to sedate him, or even better an African game park keeper.

  “Look, at least we’ve broken the back of the flight; it’s only around another three hours until we touch down in Heathrow. So, come on, just try to make the best of it and read your book or something if you can’t sleep.”

  “MY GOD—THREE HOURS!”

  “Shush!” Annie’s finger flew to her lips. “People are trying to sleep.” She glanced around but couldn’t see much apart from the darkened tops of strangers’ heads. The cabin’s lights were off except for the smattering of reading lights that illuminated the dimness. Down the aisles, arms and legs stuck out at uncomfortable angles and clogged the narrow walkway. The last time she had done a toilet trip, she’d nearly fallen over one man’s outstretched leg. He was oblivious, slouched as low as he could go in his seat with an eye mask on and a trail of drool escaping from his open mouth. It wasn’t a good look. As she picked her way down towards the toilet, she decided that this whole flying business was an undignified affair. The air hovered over her, heavy and stale, as she opened the toilet door and tried to banish all thoughts as to how many others had visited the throne room before her. Needs must, Annie; this is no time to be precious. Besides, one prima donna on the plane is more than enough, she told herself as she locked the door behind her.

  “Bully for them. They’ve probably all popped pills to knock themselves out, which is what I would have done except I have no wish to feel like I’ve been hit by a bus when I finally get off this excuse for a flying tin can.” He paused to draw breath. “My ankles are beginning to swell, too, which means I am at risk of deep vein thrombosis, I’ll have you know.” When Annie didn’t elicit concern as to the state of his ankles, he carried on. “I knew I should have bought some of those compression tight thingies. I would have, too, if they weren’t so darned hideous.” He shuddered.

  Annie decided the best course of action to follow with Carl and his current fit of hysterics was to ignore him. She’d heard it said that acting as though they weren’t there was the most effective course of action when children were in the throes of a tantrum, so that was what she’d do. She pushed her earplug back in as far as it would go and shifted her neck pillow in an effort to get comfortable; she hoped for maybe an hour or two’s sleep before they landed at Heathrow. So far she had managed about a half hour’s oblivion shortly after they’d taken off from Singapore but then Carl had elbowed her and whispered excitedly, “Are you awake, Annie? Dinner’s on its way and you don’t want to miss out.” As it turned out, she could quite happily have missed out.

  “Ow!” She sat up in sudden fright and rubbed at her calf, which Carl, trying to cross his legs for the umpteenth time, had just booted. Sleep was going to be nigh on impossible. She shot him a dirty look, crossed her own arms across her chest and slunk down in her seat. To be fair, his knees did graze the seat in front of him and he did have one of those horrid people who pushed their seat right back as far as it would go before the plane was even up in the air sitting in front of him.

  “That’s it, you know. I am never—read my lips, Annie”—Carl enunciated each word to be sure she’d get his message despite her earplugs—“never flying to the other side of the world direct again. It is like a slow, torturous death being squished in here.”

  Oh yes, he was in full-blown dramatic mode now and Annie realised there would be no stopping him as he held his hand up and waggled his fingers at the flight attendant. She was doing her rounds, trying to push a few wayward limbs out of the aisle, when Carl managed to catch her eye.

  “Excuse me! Yes yoo-hoo, hello, over here.” Satisfied she headed his way, he turned his attention briefly back to Annie. He pushed his fringe out of his eyes as he muttered, “I knew I should have tried to pass this flight off as an expense or something and gone business class but I didn’t want to leave you sitting on your own. I have learned a valuable lesson, though. It doesn’t always pay to play the Good Samaritan, no matter what the Bible says.”

  Annie bit back the retort that she would love at this present moment in time to be sitting on her own.

  “Did you see the leg room those bastards have in there?” He waved his hand in the direction of business class. “It’s evil the way that when you board the plane you march past lovely spacious business class before going through the iron curtain to the bowels of cattle class. God, I don’t know the things I do for you, sweetie.”

  “Yes, sir, is everything alright?” The well-groomed flight attendant interrupted his spiel as she leaned over the dark head of the woman who sat next to Carl and smiled down at him.

  How on earth did she manage to look so pristine after all these hours up in the air? Annie’s hand automatically reached up to smooth down her own mop, which was currently tangled beyond redemption thanks to all her fidgeting about.

  “No, actually, it’s not alright. Not at all and I’m afraid I am just not coping very well with my current circumstances. So I wondered if there was any chance of being upgraded because as you can see, my knees are just about touching my nose, which means my legs are cramping up.” Carl paused in his grousing to draw breath. “And I don’t want to be responsible for the plane having to perform an emergency landing due to my poor circulation. I’m worried about deep vein thrombosis—look.” He tried to lift his leg in an attempt to show her his puffy ankles but all he succeeded in doing was drawing an angry look from the passenger seated in front of him whose seat he kicked.

  The flight attendant, who, in Annie’s opinion, looked far too young to have to deal with difficult passengers like Carl, blinked her heavily mascaraed eyes blankly at him for a moment. Then realising what he was on about, she apologised and told him that the flight was full so “Sir” would have to stay seated where he was but could she perhaps demonstrate a series of ankle and wrist twirling exercises to get his circulation moving again? Carl was not impressed and he did a finger twirling exercise of his own at the attendant’s retreating back.

  “Fat lot of help she was, over-made up excuse for a waitress.”

  “Carl! Don’t be nasty! She’s just doing her job and if you ask me, she was very patient with you. Besides, you can’t expect her to pop anybody who complains they’re uncomfortable into first class for a glass of champagne and some strawberries. Good grief, she’d have an economy class uprising on her hands if she did.”

  “I suppose.” He slumped in his seat and then sat upright again. “Distract me then—tell me the Ngaire story again.”

  Annie watched as his expression brightened.

  “Oh, I wish I’d been a fly on the wall for that one.”

  “Only if you promise to keep your feet to yourself for the duration of the flight.” Her eyes narrowed. “And don’t cross your fingers behind your back.”

  Carl’s smile suggested that she knew him all too well as she insisted he hold both his hands out in front of him while he promised to behave himself. Satisfied he’d keep his word, she drew breath and felt as if she were about to read a bedtime story to a recalcitrant child.

  “Well, I saw her black Holden pull up outside your place. Actually, I heard it coming before I saw it. Honestly, what kind of a woman has a boy racer
muffler on her car?”

  Carl just shook his head. “It’s all part of her Ngaireness.”

  “Hmm, I suppose you’re right because I couldn’t really see her driving a Mini; it just wouldn’t suit her. Anyway, when I heard the car, I contemplated hiding and pretending no one was home. In fact, I got so far as dropping to the floor and lying flat with my arms out like this.” She flung her arms out to demonstrate.

  “Ow!”

  “Sorry.”

  Carl pursed his lips and rubbed at his nose until he was satisfied it wasn’t broken. “You knew, though, didn’t you, that if you didn’t square up and answer the door, she’d track you down eventually?” At Annie’s nod, he continued, “Even if it meant showing up at the airport, Ngaire would make sure she had her say before you left.”

  “She would, yes.”

  He nodded sagely. “Yes, wise choice then—better to face the wrath of Khan there and then.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I got off the floor and made myself open the front door. No choice really, not if I didn’t want to spend my last few days in Christchurch looking over my shoulder. I did keep my hand on the knob the whole time, though, in case I had to slam it shut in a hurry.”