Page 1 of On The Edge

1

Catherine brushed her hair out of her eyes and sighed. Another day stuck in a grey office, looking out at the interminable rain falling from dark Glasgow clouds.

“Come on guys, I want to see another sale up on the board!” Adam, her supervisor, looked high-flying and important with his pristine white shirt and colourful tie, as he tried to infuse the room yet again with his own brand of corporate enthusiasm. Yet all the while never really doing anything, thought Cat. She cringed; he would surely give his time-honoured motivation speech in an hour, taking everyone into one of the small cupboard-like office rooms next to their groups Pod. There he would share his sales expertise for the hundredth time, ending by getting everyone to shout: “Yes we can!”.

She looked around her and saw her colleagues all chatting on the phone, looking brilliantly professional, and always getting more than the three stars on the board for each sale made. If three sales were not achieved within a three day period, then the employee would be asked to leave the company. As bad as her job was, Cat did not want to leave - not just now, anyway. She was the only one making money to pay rent, bills, and put food on the table while Dave was out of work. Thinking of their finances again, she bit her lip as her stomach tightened; she barely had enough to cover their outgoings, and needed this job, even if she hated it. Cat wondered how she could be more like everyone else and get more sales, to win herself enough stars on the board to keep her job for another week. Cat fidgeted with her nail-bitten fingers, reflecting, as she waited for her next call that she must try to be happy in this job - everyone else seemed to be, and a part of her, she admitted, wanted to be like everyone else, and enjoy the nine to five. She sighed, and tried to drum her fingers on the desk, but without nails she had little effect, and the dull ache made her stop. She looked across to Shelley who sat legs-crossed filing her nails and talking merrily to the person she would make money from at the end of the call. Her bleached blonde hair was scraped into a ponytail, showing off her new gold earrings. Shelley giggled at something her customer was saying, glanced over to Cat and gave her a wink. Cat smiled back, not wanting to appear rude or unoccupied, and pretended to write down some notes, which really turned into doodling.

“Cat...you have only one star beside your name! I want to see at least two more by lunchtime.” Adam said in his softest and most patronizing tone, standing and pointing his marker pen at her with his hand resting elegantly on his hip. Noticing her smiling affectionately at his posture, he sat down immediately. Cat knew Adam was gay, but for some reason he tried to hide it. It was useless though, no matter how straight he tried to act, everyone in the office knew his real preferences.

She cringed and took another sip of her instant coffee. It was already her third cup and it wasn’t even 10.am.

The automatic dialler rang to her next cold call.

“Hello?”

Cat cleared her throat quickly. “Good Morning, am I speaking with the house-owner?”

“Yes dear, it's Mrs MacIntrye,” an old woman said in a shaky but friendly voice.

“Hello Mrs MacIntyre, my name is Catherine and I’m calling from SunnySkies UK. Have you ever thought about Life Insurance?”

The women paused. “No dear...”

“Well Mrs MacIntyre, you could be leaving your family more to deal with than you anticipate when you die. We could have the right policy for you, to ensure you have peace of mind and protection for your family financially”. Cat continued her sales pitch and doodled in her notebook once again.

“Three stars Cat!” Adam said fifteen minutes later, with such excitement that she almost felt he was going to hug her. “Great job - amazing! And here was me thinking you wouldn’t last too long here - you’ve managed to prove me wrong!”

Cat smiled thinly, gritted her teeth, and went slowly back to her desk. Oh, how she hated this job and how she hated what she had become!

When she was safely on the bus, Cat put her headphones on and began listening to Boccherini, sighing as she debated what to make for dinner, while the enchanting strings comforted her tired brain. This was her favourite part of the day; just her and her own thoughts. The bright traffic lights danced on the wet streets as the bus lurched and skidded through the rain. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw sun, surely it wasn’t that long ago? She felt she was slowly going mad as winter clung onto the heavy Glasgow skyline, not wanting to relinquish the city to spring. Squeezing past all the wet and grumpy faces who tried to steady themselves as the bus stopped, she stepped off the bus and emerged back into the rain. She tried dodging giant puddles and the splashes from cars driving past, but to no avail, the road was becoming a river and her feet were completely sodden. This is ridiculous! Cat thought to herself as she finally reached her street. Home was her flat, which she rented with Dave, a nice little one bedroom on the top floor of a tenement building. Tonight, the many windows were all lit up, casting a warm glow onto the road, their deep red walls standing strong after many years. Cat thought of the families and couples who lived there too, neighbours she didn’t know, whose everyday lives she liked to imagine. They’d eat good wholesome food from the organic markets, say “grace” at dinner, and read to their children every night. Cat ran up the stone flagged steps to the large front door, then up a further four flights of stairs until the end was in sight. Gasping on the final step, she had thought at one time that after a few years of living here she’d be fit enough to just glide breezily up; oh how wrong she had been! The key turned and opened to their small hall, which led to all the tightly packed rooms, but the ceilings were high, giving the illusion it was bigger. Cat allowed herself the romantic notion that perhaps their tiny flat was where the servants had lived; maybe this big tenement had once housed a rich family and they of course would have needed servants. Images of housemaids dusting mantelpieces popped into her head like an episode of Downton Abbey as she popped her keys on a small array of hooks next to the door labelled “Home Sweet Home” that Dave’s mum had bought them. Janet had bought them so many tacky home decorations that Cat had stopped putting them up, and was now keeping them in a box for the times Janet would visit. On those occasions she would re-adorn her flat with all the many homely items; pink china sets, vulgar doll-like ornaments or small wooden signs saying things like “Because someone we love is in heaven, there’s a little bit of heaven in our home,” or “The opinions expressed by the husband in this house are not necessarily those of the management,” the latter of which Cat actually liked, but Dave hated; probably because they weren’t married, much to Janet’s disappointment.

“Hello sweetheart.” Dave shouted from the couch as Cat's head appeared round the door.

Dave and Cat had been together for years. He was a friendly soul, a 'man’s man', funny, chatty, and occasionally capable of the odd spark of old-fashioned charm. He was also prone to mood swings, laziness, and was now living off Cat’s current wage after leaving his job three months ago. She tried to not let this bother her; it wasn’t his fault he had been made redundant. She knew however that today he had probably spent the day playing computer games, and would have left the cleaning and cooking for Cat to do. A familiar feeling of irritation crept up on her, this time however, she managed to shrug it off.

“Hiya!” she called back, and seeing that he was too enthralled in his task of shooting zombies, she went straight to the kitchen to make dinner. The pokey room could only really fit one person anyway, so she got to work and made them a quick bolognese, and cut the last of the cake she had made the day before, with a dollop of cream on top.

They both ate at their small dining room table beside the couch, watching the TV. This had become their routine now and though Cat remembered all the talking they used to do at the dinner table, catching up on what they had done each day, now, every evening seemed the same, sitting distracted by the box in the corner until she broke the silence between them.

“Did you go to the Job Centre today?” she asked him while watching the screen.

“No, not today,” he said with a sigh.

“Don’t you think you should go at some point this week?” Cat tried not to sound like a nag.

“Yeah, yeah I will, definitely.”

“Well it’s Friday tomorrow and they will be closed on Saturday so what if you went and spoke to someone about work before the weekend?” She offered in a calm breezy voice.

“Yes.” He paused for a few moments. His crew cut of brown hair was starting to get long, and Cat realised in surprise that this was the longest she had ever seen his hair. Dave was always fairly smart-looking, quite athletic in build, and usually to be found in a suit. Looking at his stubble and messy sports clothes, Cat knew he couldn’t possibly be happy like this. He continued eating his dessert, looking down. “You’re right, I'll do my resume in the morning, and go down to the Job Centre in the afternoon,” he said through mouthfuls of cake. Cat was not convinced by this statement but decided not to press him; it was late and she couldn’t face an argument. She collected the dishes and went to do the washing up. The lack of space meant that every kitchen utensil had to be put back in the cupboards after use, and everything had its own place, but Cat didn’t mind. She enjoyed keeping a tidy house, and sometimes wondered if this made her a little pathetic. She even found herself more often than not preferring to clean the apartment rather than going out on the town for a weekend, although she wouldn’t admit it to anyone. As she wiped down the worktop, she opened a bottle of red wine and poured two glasses. She had heard from the girls at work that a new costume drama was scheduled for 8pm tonight, so she carried the glasses through to the living room and snuggled up to Dave on the couch. TV on, costume drama credits starting and glass of wine in hand, Cat was content. But just as a woman in an empire dress walked into view with a manor house in the distance, Dave’s phone buzzed loudly beside them making her jump.

“Hello? Barry! How’s it going my son?” Dave spoke in the typical laddish tone he adopted whenever he spoke to his friends, at which Cat cringed and pushed him off the couch, so he would talk to his mate outside. Cat sprawled out on the couch, trying to not feel irritated again, and focused her attention back to the drama. The heroine marched off down to beautiful gardens where she seemed to be passionately angry at something. Just then an aesthetically pleasing man in a tailcoat came after her.

“Leave me, sir, I beg of you!” she said with utmost authority, but he walked up to her, about to take her arm, stopping himself at the very last moment. Cat was instantly hooked, and imagined herself being chased in a similar fashion, how fun it would be! Moments later Dave came back into the room with a grin on his face, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

“Let’s go out. Barry and some of the guys are going out. What d'you say, you could call up some of your old mates from college, it’s been ages!”, exclaimed Dave, bright-eyed.

“I’ve just sat down to watch my show,” Cat protested with a sigh, her eyes glued to the screen, trying not to miss a moment.

“Oh come on you old bore! We never go out, I feel sometimes as though you just want me to behave like a fifty year old!”, snapped Dave suddenly. Cat knew she would not get any peace tonight unless she gave in. She got up, went over to her handbag, which drooped on one of the hooks by the door. She opened her purse, and gathered up the few notes of money remaining there. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

“Take it,” she said, in a fed-up tone, stuffing the notes into his outstretched hand. Every week they argued, and every week it generally concluded with Dave wanting to go out and do things, and using her money to do it.

After ten tense minutes she heard the door slam. A part of her was relieved to be on her own tonight, with space to breathe. He never would thank her for giving him the money. She paid for food, rent and even gave him spending money like his mother... The never-ending cycle was already beginning to grate on her, leaving her unsure how things had become so bad between them. But tonight she let go of that tight, uneasy feeling, and allowed herself to escape into her costume drama; surely it would have a happy ending?