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Inside B5, Polly sat down at one of the long tables. Someone’s phone made a noise and the adjudicator of the day – Ruth from Finance – had a mini paddy.
‘Phones are not allowed. Turn them off and put them out of sight,’ she said as if she were talking to a bunch of kids about to do a GCSE. ‘Everyone got a pen?’
‘I haven’t,’ said the unmistakeable voice of Len Champion, head of maintenance, from the back corner.
‘You were told to bring one,’ said Ruth, stomping over with a cheap biro from a box on the front desk, supplied for all the Lens who really didn’t want to be here, hoping that the lack of stationery would be their get-out-of-jail-free card.
Ruth then distributed stapled sheets of paper and at exactly five past she said, ‘You have forty-five minutes to complete the test. A failure to take this seriously will result in a formal warning. Now begin.’
Polly wasn’t sure if it was legal to threaten someone with a formal warning if they didn’t complete a test but it wasn’t for her to argue. She turned over and skim-read what she’d be answering.
Section one. True or false:
I sleep well whatever is troubling me.
I have lots of friends.
I believe in the universal power of god.
People look up to me.
She could either answer these honestly or put down the answers they wanted to hear. She chose the former, played the game, and wondered how many others would do the same.
Sheridan was tucking into an egg sandwich when Polly got back to the office. The pong filled the air around her and Polly joke-wafted it away. She couldn’t get enough of eggs when she was pregnant. Egg sandwiches in the thinnest white bread she could lay her hands on. She wouldn’t eat them soft-boiled and risk causing harm to her unborn child though. Even at seventeen she’d been conscious of all that health stuff.
‘Where’s Jeremy?’ asked Polly, her speech back to normal now.
‘Posh lunch out, which is why I’m eating this here and not in the canteen.’ Sheridan chewed, swallowed and continued. ‘He’s with my replacement, that cock Brock Harrison. Good luck working with him. He walked in, addressed my stomach and said, “Now then, what have you been up to?”?’
Polly’s eyebrows lifted in horror. ‘Did he really? And did you reply?’
Sheridan gave her head a lofty shake. ‘I decided not to lower myself to his level in case the rapid descent caused a nose bleed.’
‘Good girl,’ said Polly. There was a pit of dread in her stomach at the thought of Brock Harrison joining the department and she knew it was imminent.
‘I hope they both choke on their pheasant. Have you noticed how much lighter the office floor feels when Jeremy isn’t in, Pol? I feel as if we could all float like astronauts in space.’
Everyone noticed it. The air was warmer by degrees too.
‘I wish you were pregnant as well and we were both leaving at the same time and could meet up for coffees and playdates.’ Sheridan gave her best beaming smile. ‘You’ve still got oodles of time left. So hurry up and find someone nice who’ll get you up the duff.’And love you like you should be loved, she didn’t add aloud, but wished silently.
‘You have such a way with words,’ Polly replied with a chuckle, though she didn’t want to think about having a child because it hurt. When she and Chris first got together, they’d talked about having a baby in time. He’d seemed all for it, for a short while at least. Then he kept putting it off and then he totally backtracked, said he was happy with what hehad and was too old to go through all that ‘nappy-changing shit’ again, though she doubted he’d ever changed one in his life. But being around a pregnant Sheridan had made Polly remember too much: that glorious anticipation, the wonder that a fully grown baby was moving around inside her whom she couldn’t wait to meet.
She remembered going for her scan and seeing her cute profile, the little curve of spine. She was perfect when she was born, beautiful, with tiny feet and fingernails, unruly tufts of dark hair. And a little rosebud mouth that would never root for her mother’s milk. She remembered all the things she’d bought for her daughter that someone from a charity came and collected from the house in one sad consignment: soft white clothes and teddy bears, blankets, a cot. Her arms had felt very empty for a long time. They still did.
In Monday’sDaily Trumpetwe reported that the family of May Readman had bought her a ticket to go to Dignitas for her nineteeth birthday. This should have read that they bought her a ticket to Disneyland. We are delighted to report that Mrs Deadman has accepted the gift of a Superlight Flight suitcase as compensation for any distress caused.
Chapter 8
Two days to the renewal of the vows ceremony
‘Everyone’s talking about that wank personality test,’ said Sheridan late the next morning as she dumped a cappuccino in front of Polly. ‘I was listening to Len Champion in the atrium and he reckons they’re going to use the results to fire people. He was on about ringing up the union.’
‘Len Champion would ring up the union if they ran out of cheese sandwiches in the canteen,’ said Polly. She pressed at her temple because she’d had a headache since she woke up and hoped a second dose of ibuprofen would quickly kick in and shift it.
‘Where’s Germy today?’
‘Day off,’ replied Polly. A grin bled across her lips and infected Sheridan.
